


Heartstring

by Oh_Snapcrackle



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angel Rey, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Demon Kylo Ren, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knotting, Masturbation, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mind Manipulation, Omega Rey, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Scenting, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn (ish), Smut, Soulmates, insert a variety of other depraved tags here, levitation sex, mentions of stillbirth and miscarriages (but not Rey and Ben's), otherwise the tags will be longer than the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:39:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 88,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Snapcrackle/pseuds/Oh_Snapcrackle
Summary: “Did you just smell me?” The girl accuses, craning her neck to meet his stare. Her eyes are wide with shock and weariness. Hazel eyes. Warm eyes that look like they have lived a thousand lives. Breathed a thousand deaths. Soulful eyes.His cheeks color, and he realizes he is blushing. And he never blushes. Not since he was a little boy. But he is blushing now from embarrassment and the fact he did just get caught trying to catch her scent.“No, sorry. I was just sniffling. Got a cold.”Every demon is connected to an angel by a heartstring. Ben just found his.In this world where angels and demons live among humans, balance is kept through the mysterious mating bonds between creatures of light and dark. Where there is darkness, the light will rise to meet it. Or so it used to be. Angels are too rare these days. And even if a demon finds their mate, keeping them safe is impossible.*Modern Alpha/Omega and Angel/Demon AU mashup





	1. Serendipity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is presented with an opportunity and Ben catches a whiff of something sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***NOTE* Please read the tags. Just added new ones. There will be some mind manipulation, mild mentions of torture, and small references to rape (the angel race in this story have a horrible history and rape is referenced in this). Please let me know if I missed a tag or need to add one. I've tried to get them all...but alas...they are turning out to be longer than the summary.**
> 
> So this happened. Started reading all the A/B/O fics I could get my hands on, and I should have known a little plot bunny would strike. It did, while I was binge watching some old Supernatural seasons (kind of miss the old crossroad demons). Add in the red string of fate myth…and wah-lah! This will be porn with plot. And probably the most depraved thing I have written. Already half way through writing and...yeah.
> 
> So let me know what you think! It's my first time writing an A/B/O fic, and it's an odd mashup so your input will mean the world to me (and set me straight if I do something egregious)! And if you have any omegaverse reylos to recommend shoot me a note. Because I could use a fix for my addiction. My tumblr if you so wish to reach me there is [@ohsnapcrackle](http://ohsnapcrackle.tumblr.com/).

 

There is a reason she doesn’t like this kind of bar. The noise. The base. The fact she can never hear a word anyone says. But mostly, she hates all the people. People jumping and grinding en masse without space to gather a breath. People that let hands slide covertly (or not so covertly) over secretive flesh. Eyes blown in heat. Cheeks flushed. People swaying with the music and the alcohol pumping in their veins, letting themselves get lost to slake some lust. Lust for adrenaline. Lust for sex. Lust for forgetting.

She has never been one for such gluttony. And too many people in such an enclosed space make her jittery. Not to mention the smell - sweaty bodies always make her ill.

But Rose loves these places. The cheaper the liquor and the shadier the joint the more likely Rose will approve. Claims she likes the lack of pretense. Likes this bar in particular, where the music is all bubblegum and questionable romances are on the prowl. But no one turns a nose up if you order the cheapest vodka.

She heads for the bar, where they agreed to meet after they got off work. It's a little later than Rey would usually like, but she had been happy to put in a few hours of overtime while waiting for Rose to finish her shift. Her current project, improving the efficiency of a magnetic levitation train prototype, already has her team stressed. If a few extra hours would take some of their tension away, she would gladly pay it.

Taking a seat as far from the speakers as possible, she rests her purse on the bartop and holds up a hand to get the bartender’s attention. If she is going to spend time in this place, she would need a drink.

“Hey Rey,” Rose screams over the music, sliding onto the stool beside her. She then dumps the entirety of her purse onto the bartop, making enough noise to gather everyone at the bar’s attention. Rey smirks as a single make-up compact, followed by some screwdrivers, a small channel lock, pliers, and finally her taser all rain down. The taser makes everyone turn around suddenly, trying to look everywhere but at her. And the bartender that was finally headed their way, stops, pauses, and then turns right back around to find someone else to wait on. Rey’s smirk turns into a snarl. _Well, he won’t get a tip._

“What are you doing?” Rey turns to Rose, eyebrow raised as her friend starts shuffling through all her belongings.

“I got something for you, but this damn purse - everything falls to the bottom! I can’t ever find anything.”

Rey grunts in understanding. Purses. Both helpful and a curse. Especially if they are too big.

“Well, I don’t think it was meant to be used as a toolbox.”

Without skipping a beat, Rose snarks back, “Like you don’t have a screwdriver in yours.”

Rey smiles because she does. If you count the one in her multitool. At least she doesn’t have a taser.

“I could have sworn Finn put it in here before I left,” Rose mutters to herself, and a second later lets out a little cry of triumph.

She holds up a half crumpled post-it note and then promptly holds it out to Rey.

“What’s this?”

Rose does a little half-shrug, putting her elbow on the bar and not even bothering to put her belongings back. The barkeep keeps looking at them, eyes roving over the mess Rose has made with askance. Rey can read him as clear as if she knew him for years, even across the bar in this place with so much noise. He is hoping he won’t have to clean up the mess or deal with two crazy drunk chicks. Rey has to forcefully pull her mind back to what Rose is saying, pressing her fingernails into her palm to help her refocus. Its an old strategy for when things get too much or her brain gets stuck on something and won't give it up.

When she was younger they chalked it up to ADHD. An inability to focus on things, or to focus on too much at times. Or her act first think later attitude. Her uncontrollable itch to keep moving, or not being able to listen for long periods of time. Her foster parents had filled her with pills, trying to do anything to keep her from losing focus. Trying to keep her out of trouble. Because sometimes…

“Earth to Rey.”

Rey snaps back from her thoughts, whipping her head toward Rose. She lets out a breath, uncurling her fist and trying to hide the wince when she does. She knows if she looks down into her hand she will have crescent-shaped welts. Not like she doesn’t already have the scars.

“Sorry, Rose. I lost concentration there for a second. You were saying?”

And Rose, a testament to how long they have been friends, doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Finn found this contact,” She points to the post-it note in Rey’s hand, “That might be able to find your parents.”

For a second, Rey’s heart stills. But, after years of disappointment, she wills it back into a steady pace. She has tried it all. Private investigators, hackers, the government officials. She has even been to one or two psychics in her time. Nothing has panned out.

“Oh,” She says simply, and unfolds the post-it note. Sure enough its Finn’s writing - chicken scratch. There is a company name and a number.

“Supreme Beings? What is this?”

Rose glances around, making sure no one is listening, and then leans in close, “It's a witch shop.”

“A what?”

“You know, like an apothecary or whatever you call a store that sells magic. This one is supposed to be legitimate.”

“And what does this have to do with finding my parents?” Rey asks, confused.

“Finn overheard some guys at work talking about it. Apparently, the place is the real deal. They can grant wishes. Heal wounds. They say the witch that owns the place can help you find anything you need.”

And then Rose is nudging Rey with her elbow, her eyebrows all the way up to her hairline, “You know, things like parentage.”

Rey stares at Rose like she has grown a second head, and then glances back at the paper, “You want me to go to this magic shop to see if they can locate my parents?”

“Keep it down,” Rose hisses, ducking her head even more, “Finn said we needed to keep this quiet. Make sure no one could hear us talk about it. The place is a secret.”

Rey snorts at that.

“Well, you’ve tried everything else. Why not this?”

Because its witchcraft, Rey thinks. Because it scares the crap out of her. What if she goes and gets cursed instead? She’s heard enough stories to know magic is not a safe bet. Hell, she even knows a few people intimately acquainted with hexes. Her neighbor Dorothy still breaks out in this horrible pox once a month after trying to capture a nixie in her garden.

If there is one thing every human in existence intrinsically knows, its to stay far away from magic.

“You can’t be serious, Rose.” Rey goes to crumple up the note, but Rose stops her.

“Rey, I know magic can be” She searches for the right word “-scary. But you have been living in that same house for years waiting for your parents to return. If this gives you the opportunity to get some closure isn’t it worth taking that risk?”

And Rey can’t help but look in Rose’s kind eyes and think her best friend is right. She needs to close that part of her life more than anything. Its the only thing still dragging her down.

“I’ll even go with you,” Rose nudges. And Rey gives a smile of submission.

“Fine. When do you want to go?”

They decide to try it the next day after they have both finished recovering from their night shifts. And then they stay for a few more hours, sipping on a few drinks as they swap stories about magic. Some of them are horrible urban legends. Others are tales of successful love potions.  All the while Rey can’t help but try and squash the anxiety coursing through her veins or the tremor in her hand. _Magic. Is it wise?_

——

Pressing the hot coffee to his lips, he watches as the streetlights flicker against the dark of night. Headlights flash and stoplights switch from red to green, to yellow and then back to red in a continues loop he is oddly fascinated with at two in the morning. Its far too early for him to be up, dressed, and through one cup of coffee. But it was shaping up to be a sleepless night. And instead of having another wasted night of twisting and turning, he figured he might as well make it productive. But pouring over case files could only distract him for so long until his mind is drifting to other things. The things he tries never to think about because they will never come to fruition.

Its hard not to when there are couples spilling from the bowels of the nightclub across the street. Sometimes they are hand in hand. Other times they are leaning into each other, hands in intimate places and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. But its the couple, a real couple and not two hammered people looking to fill a lonely void, that sends him spiraling into a mood. They are a bit older than the regular crowd, but their smiles are wide and encompassing. And their eyes shimmer with the light of love.

His chest grows tighter in the spot where half a soul rests. He feels the ache like he’s been gutted, and has to run a hand over his chest to assuage the pain.

By the time he glances back out the window, the couple is gone and the street is dark and empty.

 _Just like me._ He thinks, before downing the rest of his coffee in one gulp.

He barely registers the door chiming the presence of a new customer as he gathers his cup and heads toward the counter. The barista is waiting for him, a large warm smile on her face as she gives him a once over. He can see the heat in her cheeks, the way her pupils dilate at the sight of him. Inwardly he rolls his eyes. Mortals. Always drawn to those things most dangerous to them.

“It was a cup of sugar with a side of black coffee, right?” She teases, and he just shrugs without saying anything. If he did she would probably just toss the hot cup of coffee on him and he would be out looking for another coffee shop to haunt. And she isn’t really wrong - per se. While the caffeine does make his body hop a little, he can’t really taste the coffee. Not like humans. But sugar; sugar he could taste.

Like all things in the universe, a balance is needed. It showed in the smallest of things. Like taste. Creatures as dark and bitter as demons always gravitate toward sweet and light things. Angels, from what he had gleaned from texts and word of mouth are the opposite. They love tart and bitter things and are always drawn to dark places.

One half of the whole always seeking solace in the other.

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to get a grip on his thoughts. The last thing he needs is to be in this kind of mood when he has a case to oversee.

That's when he smells it. Sugar. Not the kind of sugar the barista is pouring into his shot of black coffee, but something so saccharine it makes his teeth hurt. Far more tantalizing than his favorite chocolates and pastries. Something sweet enough that he swears he gets a contact sugar rush. And then it is gone so swiftly he isn’t even sure he smelled it in the first place.

He glances around the shop, trying to pinpoint what could have caused that scent. But the only thing different is the woman at the register. He stares. Doesn’t even bother to hide it as he considers her. There isn’t much to see. She is all bundled in winter wear and shivering at that. And it was hardly freezing out. But she has on gloves, a knit cap, leggings lined in fleece, and winter boots with fake fur. The only thing he can make out is the little bit of brown hair spilling from her cap.

_It couldn’t have come from her, could it?_

So he steps a little closer, using the display of gifts cards as an excuse.

“Excuse me, sorry,” He mutters, thumbing through the cards as if he was interested. And before she can move out of the way he takes a subtle inhale. Not one that any human would catch. He doesn’t want to get hit with a purse for being creepy, after all.

And he gets nothing. Not a single scent except for the newness of her coat and the dust off her old gloves and cap. _Human._

“Did you just smell me?” The girl accuses, craning her neck to meet his stare. Her eyes are wide with shock and weariness. Hazel eyes. Warm eyes that look like they have lived a thousand lives. Breathed a thousand deaths. Soulful eyes.

His cheeks color and he realizes he is blushing. He never blushes. Not since he was a little boy. But he is blushing now from embarrassment and the fact he did get caught sniffing her.

“No, sorry. I was just sniffling. Got a cold.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but the cashier is calling her attention away and Ben uses the opportunity to slink back to the other end of the counter where his coffee is waiting. He doesn’t look back as he returns to his seat and wakes his laptop. He stretches a bit and rubs the back of his neck where his gland is tingling. He must be really tired. That’s the only time it ever gives him trouble.

By the time he looks back up the girl is gone.

The smell does not resurface.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you have enjoyed it so far! <3


	2. Hints of Vanilla With An Undercurrent of Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lonely hearts crave touches. Intimate touches. Round one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know A/B/O is a hot thing in Reylo, but I was not expecting such a response! Thank you all so much. I am still in awe of all your sweet comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions. And I am just SO beyond ecstatic that you are giving this story a try because I am having a blast writing it. So let me say this again because I can never say it enough…THANK YOU!
> 
> So here is a chapter in the mindset of Ben, our melancholy demon. Be forewarned, this is a porn with a lot of plot story and though this fic is classified as a slow burn (ish), that doesn’t mean things won’t get steamy before then. Hope you enjoy. ;)

 

\-----

 

People in the elevator give him a wide berth. They edge off to the side as he shuffles in with his gym bag and a towel slung over his shoulder. He knows he looks a mess. Smells one, too. Still dressed in a sweaty tank and shorts, his top and hair are completely soaked through. But the gym showers had been occupied, and he hadn’t the patience to wait. Besides, his personal shower was a better prospect after the night he has had. So if a few of his fellow residents have to put up with his sweat for five minutes he could handle their glares. By the time he reaches his penthouse, everyone else has vacated the elevator.

He doesn’t even turn on the lights as he enters his apartment, kicking the door closed behind him. Navigating the shadows of the living room/kitchen combination is easy with the slivers of city lights to guide him. Soon he is in his bedroom chucking his gym bag onto his bed. He starts shedding clothing, leaving a trail of musky garments in his wake. It isn’t until he is in the shower with the hot water running that he finally lets out a relieved sigh.

He spent another hour at the coffee shop attempting and failing to comb over some of his cases. Finally, he had given up. His gland had become more painful as the minutes ticked away until he could no longer stand the ache. So he headed for the gym. He had thought if he worked his body hard enough he could collapse for an hour of sleep.

The heat feels good against his muscles once his body adjusts to the temperature. Despite a brutal exercise session meant to channel his rage, he doesn't feel any calmer. He should have known he couldn't slake this rage with a punishing run or by hitting a punching bag until he bruised. Familiar with this type of rage, the kind that festers no matter what he does to weather it, he knows he should have just come home and downed a sleeping pill. He could have slept it off in a groggy haze of night terrors.

But he hadn’t. And now, even under the scorching heat of the shower, his body is still tense. Wound tight like a spring.

There is only one thing he knows that might unravel all the tension. It is the only thing that works, but it doesn't always help. Sometimes it makes the rage so much worse. Because after touching himself it always ends the same way. The reminder of how alone he is. How he won’t ever, ever get to feel a true release buried inside another. To mate. Even when he takes a human woman to bed, when the night is dark and he can pretend she is his mate writhing beneath him, it still ends with a void in his heart.

Despite his morose thoughts, and the knowledge he will feel worse after, his mating gland pulses to life. As if the very thought of touching himself woke it up.

_Interesting_ , he thinks as he reaches to rub the gland. The second his hand touches the soft spot, his other hand snaps out to rest against the shower wall. His legs quake from the electricity shooting through his nerves. He rubs again and a loud moan rips from his lips. Surprise mingles with the heady sparks. Never in all his years has it ever elicited such a reaction. Sometimes, in the middle of a particularly encouraging bout of masturbation, he might eek a little spark out of it. But nothing like this.

All demons are aware of the purported stimulation the mating gland can add to bouts of sex. But within his generation of demons, a vast majority of whom are unmated, the stories vary widely about what it feels like. They have all felt the occasional shock or pulse. But more than that they have all felt the ache from being without a mate. Especially if one is colluding with a human to fill that void. And if you happen to ask an old demon that experienced having a mate, they always speak of it with such reverence.

Like the one time Ben, in his adolescent naivety, had asked his father why demons couldn't mate with other demons. Han had taken one saddened look at his son before heading for the booze cabinet and pouring them both a drink. Half a bottle of whiskey later, Han finally had the liquid courage to explain the intricacies of their race's sexual practices. And as much as he would love to burn that conversation from his mind, his father's words are one of the few guides he has to his sexual nature.

Not that he ever expected to use the information.

Angels are all but extinct after a mass genocide at the hands of a nihilist demon faction. Their propaganda like 'unchain the demons from their angel counterparts', 'let the slavery to biology to end', and 'to undo the social constructs of the force race that limit the growth of true power' had burned through society like an inferno. The seduction of that promise for power had broken their race, leaving a generation of demons with half their souls misplaced among the universe...and no chance of being made whole.

But, as he rubs his gland again he references his father's words. And bits he has picked up from ancients texts here and there. Because his hips jerk forward with a fervor he hasn't felt since he was an adolescent. Because the searing tingles weaving their way down his spine and gathering in his crotch are nothing like anything he has experienced before.

_It will feel like a fever._

_And it will fill your body with bolts of blissful lightning._

_Your body will hum, pulse to a rhythm that only your two bodies can master._

And when he lets his hand wrap around his shaft, his mind goes blank. And for the first time in ages, he doesn’t think.

His eyes slip close and a white figure visits. It is outlined in a blinding light, with a body dipped in the whitest of paint. He can just make out the gentle swell of hips and the curving of a delicate waist. The roundness of pert breasts. And then it falls away, leaving a tingle of warmth and a scent so sweet it makes his mouth water; hints of vanilla and an undercurrent of honey.

One hand still rubbing his mating gland, he leans his head against the wall of the shower to gain some stability. Because every-time he presses on his gland his hips jerk so violently he can’t stand without help. With the cloying scent clinging in his nostrils, he takes a deep breath and explores the new sensations.

He runs his hand along his shaft, pausing over the head to instigate another tremor of stimulation. Two fingers swirl the tip, eliciting a hiss before he coats his hand with his precum. And once he grips his shaft with a lubricated palm, a little harder than before, his hips jerk upward.

He starts slow, letting his hips pump his cock between his fingers in a mockery of pressing into a woman’s body. With his eyes closed, he can imagine that white creature against the wall of the shower, back pressed against the tile. Pale arms wrapping around his neck. It's not his fingers skirting over the gland at the nape of his neck, but tiny gentle fingers that press into the skin in time with his thrusts. Soft lips slightly parted as they suck on the skin sloping between his collarbone and neck. Her legs are locked around his waist, holding them both in place so he can thrust into her wet core. So he can sink past her folds and into a pulsing heat. Until he glides out, only to repeat the process again. And her breasts smash against his chest as he pounds into her. Again and again, making her soft breasts jiggle from the momentum.

His thrusts speed up, phantom moans from his corporeal lover encouraging his punishing rhythm. The friction has him growling against the tile, and his heels are lifting from the ground with each thrust against his hand. His mating gland is pulsing now, aching for attention regardless of how hard or soft he rubs it. But he continues, groaning against the zings and flashes of passion it sends ripping down to his cock. Its so much stimulation, so intense, his eyes are starting to see stars and he can feel all his muscles tensing with the promise of release.

The hand that was on his mating gland leaves to reach down and cup his balls. He gives them a squeeze as he pumps his other hand up and down. His eyes fly open and he curses.

_More of that_ , he thinks.

And he continues, half of his body pressed against the wall as his movements become far more reckless. He is slipping on the wet tile with each wild thrust. But the delicious pressure of his cock is far more important at the moment. And he is sure that even if he falls in the shower, he wouldn’t let up. Couldn’t let up. Not with the blood singing in his ears. Not with the imagined inner walls of the woman in his vision to glide along. Not with that damned smell filling his nose to the point he can’t even breathe without rutting into his hand.

Another hard thrust, this one enough to upset his balance, sends him crashing down to the bottom of the shower. He manages to catch himself with his hands so his head doesn’t crack against the tile. He stares at the water swirling down the drain, and his lusty haze briefly clears. There is only the sound of water and his heavy breathing filling the bathroom. He thinks about stopping. Work is in an hour and he has to make it across town…

But his cock is so fucking hard. The receding tremors of passion are enough to make him twist so he is sitting on the floor of the shower, cock in hand and balls in the other. Splaying his legs he lets them stretch out. He dips his head so the cascading water will stay out of his eyes and nose. Rivulets drip from his matted hair onto the head of his cock. He hasn’t met his unraveling yet, knows that even if it takes him the entire hour before work to rip his release from his body he will take that time.

He gives a quick squeeze, feels his butt leave the title as his hips jerk again. And with a moaned sigh his eyes drift back closed. His hand travels back up to his mating gland, rubs it as he pumps his fist up and down his shaft until he is back on the precipice of climax.

He imagines the white woman stretched across his lap, her hands braced against his shoulders as she impales herself on his cock. Rolling over him at a breakneck speed in time with his pumping fist. And sometimes she will twist just a little, circling her hips and he mimics this with his hand. Imagines her pale hip bones crashing against him as she slams down on his lap just as he cants violently up to meet her. His thrusts become faster and disjointed. He imagines going deeper into her than before, skimming through folds and heat until he isn’t sure where he ends and she begins. Imagines her biting into the flesh of his neck and sucking on his pulse. Then she stills, tossing her head back as her walls pulse and promise to pull his seed deep into her womb.

He comes with a hiccuped groan, head hitting the tile behind him with a bang. He sees stars bloom from the pain and the climax. His spend coats his hands, stomach, and thighs, and though he knows he could just get up and let the shower wash it all away he feels far too loose and lazy to even get up.

Running a hand through his hair, he blinks at the opposing tile wall.

_Holy hell, what was that?_

But deep inside where instinct is been buried, he knows the cause. There is only one reason a demon’s mating gland could ever bring that kind of release. Even if he knew it only through word of mouth and books. Something deep and old mutters against his putty of a brain.

At some point, he came in contact with an unmated angel.

Running a hand through his hair, he blinks at the opposing wall.

And the realization fills him with a horrible dread. Because in his entire life he has only ever known two angels and one was his father. The other a little waif of a five-year-old girl. A one in a hundred kind of being. In a city this big, overrun with an infestation of demons like him, an unmated angel won’t go unmated long. And that is if they are lucky.

Fate would be so cruel to let him have a taste before ripping it from his grasp.

He sits at the bottom of the shower until he hears the blaring of his alarm announcing he must leave for work in thirty minutes.

———

“We subpoenaed the bank documents as well as the medical records a week ago. We still haven’t heard a peep.”

Ben presses a hand to his eye, trying to rub away some of the exhaustion. This was supposed to be a quick bag and tag case, but with the subpoenas being ignored and the other side playing dirty he can already tell this will be a case to lose sleep over. Even his mental reminders about the astronomical paychecks he is pulling for consulting on this case are losing their edge. And they are only in discovery.

“Regretting taking this case?” Poe asks, spinning around in his chair with half a sandwich in his mouth.

“You didn’t tell me we would be up against Hux and Associates.”

Poe smirks, “And would you have agreed to consult on this case if I had? Besides, it’ll give you a chance to make the man squirm. You love making Hux squirm.”

Ben rolls his eyes, taking a bite of a chip from his sandwich plate. It's gone stale. He grimaces and tosses the rest back into the container.

“That is when we are in the courtroom. Until then I have to put up with his petty attempts to derail and sabotage.”

“Hmm,” Poe says around the sandwich, and then drops what is left of it back into the box. He pins Ben with an assessing look.

“You never told me what happened between you. What made you leave their practice?”

“Are you asking why I walked away from a plush job at the top law firm in the city to work for a firm that covers as many high profile cases as it does charity work?”

“It had to be something between you and Hux. You can see it every-time you two are in a room together,” Poe says excitedly, completely bypassing Ben’s attempt to evade his prodding.

“It's a long story and not one you are entitled to know,” Ben responds shortly. Poe ignores him.

“Buddy, you work for me. If we are going to work together, it's to my advantage and yours to know what went down between you and Hugs.”

Ben’s mouth quirks at the nickname Poe has given his former employer, but keeps his voice tight and serious, “ It's more personal than professional. Hugs just likes to let the personal stuff overflow into the professional.”

Poe eyes him over the swig of soda he is taking, and then shrugs, “Fine. Don’t tell me. But next time you decide to hold him against the wall by the neck outside the courtroom and someone sees it, I’m going to have to cut all ties.”

“Fair enough. I’ll make sure no one sees.”

“Sounds like a deal to me,” Poe grins and grabs the rest of his sandwich to gulp down.

“So we don’t have much left to do today. Until those records come in we are stuck. I say we call it.” Poe mutters over his full mouth.

Ben is already up out of his seat, tossing his late lunch into the bin. Poe blinks at him, surprised at how fast he moved. Ben waves at him, pulling his phone from his pocket and scrolling through his messages.

Most of them are from clients or his secretary. Nothing interesting. But as he continues to scroll, he stops on one of the last messages.

_Shit._ He hisses, quickly unlocking his phone and hitting the contact name on the message. _Shit. Shit. Shit._

After a few rings, the other line picks up and Ben feels his heart stop.

“Kylo Ren,” The voice on the other end purrs, “Good to know you are still in town. I was just telling Madge that we should get you back on rotations.”

“Snoke,” He acknowledges, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

“And Madge reminded me that your sabbatical just ended. And guess what? I have a job that needs filling.”

Ben has to stop walking and lean against a building as he tries to steady his breathing. It has been months since he talked to the old master after the fiasco with Hux. And he had hoped his lack of presence around Finalizer would give Snoke the clue that Ben wanted out. That he didn’t want to deal anymore. But Ben was lying to himself thinking that would keep Snoke away. He had been preparing for this call for weeks now. Always jumping every-time his phone chimed or vibrated.

Snoke lets the pregnant pause grow between them. Not using words to put pressure on him but letting his lack of response tell Ben everything he needs to know. Snoke was going to enforce this. There was nothing he could do but give in.

“Whats the job?”

“You remember old Jasper? Well, he met an unfortunate end the other day at the bar. So now I need a crossroads demon. I thought of you.”

He lets his head fall hard against the brick wall as he stifles a hiss. Crossroads work was the worst of the duties. One had to be on call all night, just in case some idiot decided to sell their soul for fame. Most of the time the nights were eventless. The only thing worse than waiting on the summons was when they actually happened. Usually, it was some teenagers out for a night of fun that got enough of a taste of danger to run screaming. Sometimes it was people searching for money or fame. The worse were the ones that came crying about love. _I want my loved one back. I want blah blah blah to fall in love with me. I want to find true love._

Those always bring out the worst of his temper. Half the time he is so enraged at the audacity of them to ask for something so precious that he wants to turn them to dust. He did that once. It had been a horrible mistake. Souls are the currency of the demonic world and losing one cost Snoke time and money. So Snoke had made him pay for the loss. So from then on, he had to go and hold his tongue while selling off souls for the price of ten years of beloved bliss. And he always watches them walk away with the greatest of envy in his heart.

Because he would never have that. Love. Completeness. The one thing demons crave more than souls.

Their other half. Their mate.

Snoke clears his throat on the other end, and Ben can only guess he read his thoughts.

“When do you want me to start?”

He can feel his master’s smile across the data stream to his phone, “How about tomorrow?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I love to know what you think! Whether it is your predictions, catching some foreshadowing (because there were a couple pieces scattered in there), or anything else! So please feel free to shoot me a message or reach out on tumblr ([@ohsnapcrackle](http://ohsnapcrackle.tumblr.com)).


	3. Like the Bitterest of Coffee and Dark Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lonely hearts crave touches. Intimate touches. Round two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are not enough words for me to convey how thankful I am for all your kudos and support. It is so sweet of you, and I am so grateful. You are the fuel that makes writing a pleasure. Again, thank you!
> 
> Without more preamble, here is Rey dipping her toes in the deep end - completely clueless about the dangers that lurk just under the surface.

 

 

 

It doesn’t look like much. There isn’t even a glass window to peer into. Just a brick wall covered in ivy and large cascading blooms from the balcony above. But if she squints her eyes she thinks she can see a few pixies darting between the profuse blooms. Thinks she can hear their chatter over the crowd of the street.

Oh, and there is a door. A door of stained wood with large inlaid carvings in a series of triangles and circles. Magic runes, Rey realizes. She has seen them referenced in books and movies. Even saw a few in a class designed to train humans on ways to avoid magic trappings. If you see this design, turn the other way…

She doesn’t recognize any of the engravings, and none are making the hair on her arms stand up. From the smell the place is giving off, at least from the outside, it smells more like earth than burnt wood and ozone. Not how she expects dark magic to smell. It makes her nerves settle.

“So let's get this over with,” Rey says, leaving Rose gaping at the sign.

The door opens to the ringing of chimes, and Rey is hit with a barrage of smells. Some are sweet. Some clean. Others are spicy. She sneezes after inhaling too much, and that catches the attention of the woman behind the counter where the chimes didn’t.

Rey stops with the door halfway open, Rose bumping into her from behind. But Rey doesn’t move as the proprietor’s eyes pin Rey to the spot. There is an odd feeling creeping up her spine, like delicate fingers tracing the path to the base of her brain. The woman is tilting her head to the side, as if curious. And then the spell is broken, leaving Rey breathing heavily and ready to run.

“I think we came to the wrong place -“ She starts, heart hammering.

“You didn’t come to learn about your parents, then?” The woman calls out, just as Rey is turning around to push Rose so they can get out of there.

The words still Rey, and she slowly turns back to the woman.

“How did you know?”

“You live long enough you start to see the same eyes in different people.”

A not unkind smile pulls on the woman’s lips. And then she is holding her hands out and nods for Rey to take them.

“I won’t hurt you, child.”

Rey isn’t sure why she crosses the space and lays her hands in those of this witch that frightened her just seconds ago. But here she is, fingers entwined. She stares down into two beady brown eyes set back in wrinkles. There is a warmth that caresses at her skin, and a taste to the air like sprinkles. It feels like safety.

“I am Mazaline. But everyone calls me Maz. I own this little place. What is your name, little one?”

Rey has to open and close her mouth a few times before she can even choke her name out, “Rey. Rey Doe.”

“Doe? What kind of last name is that?”

Rey shrugs, “The last name of a girl without a last name.”

Maz’s hand slides over Rey’s face, cupping her cheek, “Let's see if we can learn your real last name. How does that sound?”

“It sounds lovely, but I’ve never had any luck finding them before -“

Maz just pats her hand and then leads her to a spot in the back of the store. They pass by shelves filled with bottles of herbs and other things that make Rey wince.

“You’re not a dark shop, are you?” Rose asks hesitantly, walking as close to Rey as she can manage without tripping over her feet. Her friend keeps eyeing everything suspiciously as if one of the snakeheads in a jar will animate and strike at them.

“Light, dark? They are one in the same. Each just one half of a bigger whole.”

That didn’t answer Rose’s question exactly, but Rose doesn’t press any further. Rey knows her friend is thinking the same thing - the less they know about this magical world, the better off they will be. If they can get this lady to tell Rey what she needs to know about her parents then they can be on their way.

They come to a little wooden table with chairs, and Maz falls into one while pointing at Rey to take the other. Rose stands behind Rey, eyebrow raised in skepticism and one hand resting on Rey’s shoulder for support. Rey takes a moment to look at the table, notices a couple of decks of tarot cards and a little bag with what appears to be engraved bones spilling out. There is a bowl of some type of mashed herb, and other trinkets that spatter the table.

“Hold your hands out, palms up,” Maz instructs. Rey complies, and Maz runs her fingers over her palms. The witch's hands are rough, from years of handling herbs and cutting. But her touch is soft. Maz’s eyes fall closed and she starts humming and whispering to herself.

“Just as I thought. Been so long. Curious.”

Then her eyes pop back open.

“Did you see something?” Rey asks timidly. She tries to keep the hope out, but it is there bubbling back to the surface. After years of trying to squash it.

“Of a sort. I can tell you that you are warded to the hilt. Something or someone wanted to make sure your past stayed hidden. Even from a Master of the Art.”

“Warded? What does that mean?” Rey asks, even as Maz is getting up out of her chair and heading over to some shelf a few feet from where they sit.

“Wards are ways magical creatures protect things. You can ward a house to keep things out. You can ward a box to keep spirits in. In this case, you are warded to keep people like me from getting inside. From discovering something.”

“Why would I be warded? And who would ward me?” Thousands of questions start running through her mind, even as Maz pulls a book from the shelf and bends it open. She blows the dust off the pages and starts flipping.

“Good question that I can’t answer for you. Except that the wards on you can only be created by one type of magical creature. And they are the only ones that can undo it.”

“You can’t undo it?”

“Darling, I’m good. But I’m not that good. Even a Master of the Arts can’t dapple in the Force Arts. Those are magics for only two types of beings.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

Maz clicks her tongue, pulling an odd pair of glasses from her tunic and looking over the text. She lays a finger on a spot before looking back up at Rey.

“Do you really want to know who your parents are? Because I can point you to someone that can undo those wards.”

“I really do. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t.”

“Well, coming here is one thing. Someone warded you up the ass, which means they were probably protecting you. You go messing around with these beings and you might get what you want. You might also open yourself up to harm if those wards fail.”

“You just told me there is a chance I can learn who my parents are. I am going to take it.”

Maz appraises her for a moment, glancing up and down. And then, mind made up, she pulls a notepad from mid-air. Rey flinches and steps back. A little chuckle emits from the witch.

“Girly, if that gives you a start, you really want to rethink this.”

She squares her shoulders.

“Very well. To meet with one of these beings in their true form you’ll have to follow these instructions perfectly.”

“Find them in their true form?”

Maz ignores the question, too busy scribbling madly on her pad of paper.

“At night you will go to any empty crossroad and dig a hole. In that hole you need to put a box with your picture and the bone of a black cat. Then you will need to scatter grave dirt over the top of the box. Bury the box with dirt from the hole you just dug. If the creature wishes to make a deal, then they will appear. The truth of your parents for something of value to them.”

“What kind of things do they value?”

At that Maz shrugs, but gives her a sad grimace. “It depends on what you have to offer. Mostly they like souls. But sometimes they will ask for something else. A memory. A person’s love. They are magical beings and they have a need for spells. Sometimes they just take an ingredient for one. And since you aren’t asking for something that requires a lot of tampering with reality, they might let you off easy.”

“My soul? Or a memory? That doesn’t sound like a worthwhile deal.”

“True. But it is your choice. I have everything you need should you decide to summon one of these creatures. Besides, they can’t make a deal without laying out the parameters beforehand. In other words, they’ll tell you exactly what they want in the trade before you strike the deal.”

For a long time, Rey just stands there staring at the bookshelf lost in thought. When Rose told her about coming to the magic shop she thought that would be enough of a foray into magic to last a lifetime. The fact she is even considering this option…

She feels a comforting hand on her arm.

“Look, little one, I’ve seen many people pass through here in my life. Many types of beings. Especially the ones that run the crossroad deals. Something about you tells me this being won’t hurt you.”

“What types of beings are these things?”

At that Maz pulls her hand away and runs it through her hair. She turns then, flipping a page of her book to an old illustration and hands it to Rey. Rey’s eyes go wide. Rose lets out a gasp behind her.

“Demons! You are sending me to do a deal with a demon?”

Rey slams the book shut and starts to walk off, Rose in tow. But even as she starts across the store she can hear Maz calling after her.

“But the one I am sending you to, he isn’t as bad as the others! He’s got a bit of a sweet side.”

Sweet enough to devour me, Rey thinks, slamming the door behind her hard enough the chiming echoes down the street.

——

What a broken down little house, Rey thinks as she stands before the stoop and really looks at it. The narrow split-level has been her home her entire life, even though her foster papers claim she lived under a different roof. It is the only thing left from her parents before they took off in a beat-up Winnebago. Even then, she only has the place because her grandmother had the foresight to deed the house to Rey in her will. When things got too tough she could always slide through the back window and stow away for a couple of nights until child services came snooping. Once she was no longer a ward of the state, it finally became her permeant residence.

But years of neglect have left it in shambles. And even now, between her schooling and her job, she has little time to invest in its upkeep.

The door hangs a little wonky on the hinges. Some of the windows have spider web cracks. The eve is drooping, and the stoop is sagging. Vines clamber up half of the brick, and the few bushes that manage to survive her neglect are as scraggly as tumbleweed. The inside is worse.

Ever the optimist, Rey hasn't realized how dilapidated her childhood home has become. Something in her cracks at the revelation. Everything else in her life is brilliant and alive. She has a make-shift family with her friends. A job she loves. And yet, aside from having a place to crash and sleep, she hasn’t done a thing to fix the house.

Staring up at the house she becomes hyper-aware of all the little voids in her life she tries to pretend don’t exist. Things like her need to know her parents and what became of them. To know if she wasted all this time on a pipe dream pretending she is loved. That they would come back. A fear of fixing something and never having it live up to her childhood imaginings.

Or match the ghosts of her past she used to fill the nights when sleep refused to take her.

Rose’s words replay in her head from the night before. “But you have been living in that same house for years waiting on your parents to return. If this gives you the opportunity to get some closure isn’t it worth taking that risk?”

Is that why she hasn’t fixed this little place up? Because she is always hanging onto a past that is never going to materialize? As if she fears her parents are like a mother bird that refuses to return to a nest if it smells different?

Shaking her head, knowing it has been far too long a day to navigate the complexities of her psyche, Rey ascends the steps and wiggles the door open. Stepping inside only makes her mood plummet. She locks the door before beelining for her bedroom, eyes on the floorboards. She doesn’t want to look into the crevices for fear a ghost of the past will wiggle up from the floorboards and bring up ancient memories.

Rey quickly shucks her clothes, making for the bathroom. Climbing into the old, rusty clawfoot tub she pulls the curtain taut. She sets the water to scalding, not even bothering to stand out of the freezing spray while the water heater takes its sweet time. Despite her shivering and her rattling teeth, she lets the water cascade over her. With this, her tears can mix in with the water and that way she doesn’t feel so much like she is crying. Even as she has to put a hand against the wall to steady herself, even as her chest heaves and her breath comes in pants. At least the illusion is there. In place. Until the water warms and the tears are all washed away.

And her emptiness is no longer as heavy.

She slides down to lay in the tub feeling so utterly exhausted and awake at the same time. Her mind flicks back and forth between her conversations with Rose and the witch Maz. She had been adamant moments ago that she would not listen to the witch’s advice. How could she summon a demon for the price of her soul, just to discover what happened to her parents? It seemed so insane seconds before.

But lying in the tub, staring up at a ceiling that has a growing water stain smiling down on her, she wonders if it is worth the price. The price of being able to move on, to leave all this behind? To have what is left of her life to live in peace? She isn’t even sure she believes in an afterlife anyway.

It feels so clear, all of a sudden, that this is the path she needs to take. Even if she loses her soul in the making of this deal it will finally put an end to this ache inside her chest.

A life worth living instead of a life spent waiting.

Best case scenario she will find them and learn about why they left. Perhaps they could become a family again?

Worse case scenario, she can finally walk away without feeling she is betraying a family. And she can start a new one. A better one. She can have a damned relationship that is more than late night trysts to slake her physical needs. She could bond with someone, stick around, love. Belong.

Without thinking, her hand reaches behind her neck to that odd spot that sometimes aches. The spot she has taken to calling it. Years ago her foster parents had a doctor take a look at it. The doctor had shrugged. Said it was a rare type of old lymph node - a vestigial organ not yet removed completely from the gene pool of humanity. Nothing to worry about.

She rubs it gently, trying to soothe the strange pulsing that has been around a little more than a day.

The minute her finger finds the spot an image flickers across her vision. It's not even long enough for her to capture it. Someone tall, looming and doused in the blackest ink. A feeling chases the image - like a warmth that makes her skin tingle. And there is a smell, like the bitterest of coffee or chocolate but stronger. Muskier.

She takes a deep breath, finds the smell is still locked in her nose even as the image fades away. But her skin still tingles, and a warmth settles over her body. As if she has grown flush.

No stranger to the signs of arousal, she is still shocked by the suddenness of the feeling. So she runs a hand tentatively down the nape of her neck as she continues to soothe the spot on the back of her neck. The little tingles skitter across her body, flowing from her touch and trailing further down until they descend on her core. Her breath catches.

Oh, was not expecting that. She thinks, letting her eyes drift toward the ceiling. And because she has nothing better to do, and the night is looking dark and full of errant thoughts, she lets her curiosity carry her away.

She keeps her hand on that sensitive spot just below her neck, gently rubbing it as her other hand slowly descends to palm her breast. At first, she massages, and that causes a few more tingles but not enough. So she runs her thumb over her budding nipple like a lover would. And her hips buck up from the tub before splashing back down in a desperate thrust. Her eyes widen at the response, and she hisses.

Shit. She mutters.

Wanting more of that, she twists the nipple between two fingers; rolling and pressing with enough tension her hips flick up again and crash back down. A little more and her breaths are already growing shorter, and her eyes have drifted closed. But more than anything her core is tingling, and she can feel the little quakes of her inner walls starting their mantra of more, more, more.

Her hand leaves her breast, slowly traveling over the dips of her waist and to the parted v between her hips. And she imagines its another’s hands. And it is so much easier with her eyes closed to imagine the tall dark figure that hovered in her vision moments ago. That musky earthy scent that came with it seems stronger as if it too is growing in intensity with her arousal.

By the time her finger dips into the apex of her thighs, she imagines long fingers. Longer than her own, spanning the entirety of her waist. Pressing down on her abdomen as a single digit skims her sex. Her thighs jump upward again, and this time she lets out a groan as her finger flicks over her clit and sends blooms of light across her eyes. With a hiss she flicks harder, causing another spasm until she is relentlessly circling the bundle of nerves. Her eyes are rolling back in her head as her hips jump to a rhythm her frantic movements are setting. Thump. Thump. Thump.

She spreads her legs out, trying to anchor her heels against the slick surface of the ceramic tub. It doesn’t do much to help. With every thrust, she slides a little further down until her neck is craned and she is contorting to do anything to keep the friction going. The pulse in her core is growing more demanding, not satisfied with the stimulation of her bud. And in desperation, she slides her other hand down between her legs and slides a finger in. Her hips jerk wildly, and she slides until her feet are pressed against the other end of the tub. With her body braced she can angle her hips a little better, and the digit slides in further. She slowly starts pumping, but it is not enough pressure. So she curves her finger and drags it along her walls. Still not enough. With a huff, she adds another finger and moans at the slight stretch.

Her other hand moves more frantically, punishing her clit as she feels herself building to a crescendo. Another finger is added, and this time it feels just a little more right. Still not deep enough, and she hisses at the lack of satisfaction of being full. But it is enough to keep the rhythm of her hips and to keep her driving toward those whizzing tingles that are promising a blissful end if she can just get there…

And with both of her hands working adamantly between her legs, she lets her head fall against the cool tub bottom. Images of a dark creature, as dark as ink and void as a starless sky moving above her permeates her mind. Each thrust of her hips meets a phantom thrust of his. And it's not her fingers dipping and caressing the linings of her inner walls, but him. She imagines him filling her far more than her paltry fingers, gliding in further and reaching that little spot tucked away that makes blood ring in her ears. But her fingers can’t reach it, no matter how she tries to adjust. And just when she thinks the chase has finally reached a screeching end that should curl her toes and make her back bend, it doesn’t.

Like she is stuck on a mountain climb where the summit keeps moving out of reach.

Her body feels so hot, burning. And she keeps pressing harder and more relentless until she can’t move her hands any faster. And the climax keeps slipping right out of reach.

So close, she hisses, feeling her face heat from the stress of it. As if she can will her climax into existence.

She has no clue how many times she almost crashes over the edge only to take five paces back. Eventually, she just lets her hands fall to the side and curses.

Body heaving, she turns over on her side and hits the bottom of the tub in frustration. She had thought she would get a good sleep tonight. Especially with the promise of a happy ending. But with no satisfaction to be had, and a throbbing core, there would be no sleep tonight.

And whether it was from the frustration or the culmination of all her dark thoughts and anxiety from the day, she cries for the second time that night.

Again, the water washes them all away.

But it doesn’t wash away her arousal. Or the images of the faceless dark creature that almost brought her a shattering release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you are enjoying the story so far. I love hearing your thoughts - from predictions and guesses to suggestions and connections. Really any note or love. So please feel free to reach out here or on tumblr ([@ohsnapcrackle](http://ohsnapcrackle.tumblr.com)). But more than anything just thank you for reading. :)
> 
> On another note, some of you guys that made predictions and connections were insanely close. Kudos to you! I was hoping to keep some of you guessing. Alas, you were too sly for me. ;)


	4. Forging Fates and Brokering Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All you need to summon your soulmate is a box with a picture and a black cat’s bone. Dig a hole in the center of a crossroad. Place the box inside. Sprinkle a little grave dirt over the top. Bury it. Try not to get devoured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and Gents, let me start by saying thank you for reading, leaving feedback, and giving kudos. Know that I cherish them and thank you for the motivation. <3
> 
> So are you ready to see what happens when Rey summons the crossroad demon Ben? I hope so because the time is upon us! What will he demand from the bargain? Will Rey be willing to pay? Will she become his slave for eternity? What happens when her wards drop? Demon deal here we come...with a side of supernatural neurosurgery. Yes, you read that correctly. Proceed at your own risk.

 

 

 

She is scared shitless.

There is no other way to describe the sheer terror coursing through her veins. Her hand trembles as she reaches for the door latch and stumbles out of her car, kicking up weeds and dust. If it weren’t for her beaming headlights and the slithers of moonlight piercing through the clouds, she would be bathed in darkness. There isn’t a lamppost or an electrical line in sight.

After driving for an hour to make it out of the city limits, she thinks she has found a spot less traversed. It's an old road, one coming apart at the seams. Half of it is covered in weeds and bits of asphalt spike up from the ground giving way to dirt and dust. She peers up at the two bent signs - the crossing of Paxton Road and Kinshaw Avenue. At least all the potholes will make it easier for her to dig a hole for the little box of oddities sitting on her passenger seat.

 _Am I really doing this?_ She mutters to herself, leaning against the car to gather her breath. _I’m mad. Certifiably mad._

Her phone chimes to life for the hundredth time, and she doesn’t need to look to know it is Rose or Finn trying desperately to talk her out of this decision. The minute they left the shop the other day, Rose had been adamantly against this idea. She had cursed the Maz woman, cursed magic, and even cursed Finn for sending them to such a horrible place. Rey had been right there with her, stomping down the street with fire in her veins, angry that someone would suggest she summon a demon - to put herself in that kind of danger.

But in the darkness of night’s embrace, when sleep evaded, her mind had run rampant. The chance of discovering her parentage gnawed at her heart until she was thrashing in her sheets and screaming in frustration. As long as there was hope, no matter what the cost, she won’t sleep until she has tried every avenue. Even if it includes summoning a demon.

Gathering what resolve she can muster, she grabs the shovel from the trunk. Maz told her to dig a hole in the center of the crossroads. So that is what Rey does. She pries bits of broken asphalt off the road, enough so she can sink the shovel into the soft ground, and makes a hole big enough for the spell.

With a sigh, she drops the shovel and walks back to the car, opening the passenger door and grabbing her wooden box. Holding her breath, she opens it to see the contents, checking them off in her head.

 _One picture. Check._ She lets her finger glide over the small polaroid Finn took a few years ago. It's so blurry she hardly recognizes herself.

 _One bone of a black cat. Check?_ She guesses. It could be any type of bone Maz sold her for a few bucks. But if the witch suckered her, oh well. Rey is far past caring.

 _Grave dirt. Check._ She takes out the little vial and puts it in her pocket. Maz’s instructions stated she was to sprinkle it over the box before covering everything with soil.

She quickly shuts the box and crosses back to the hole. Without ceremony, she drops the box in, pulls out the little bottle of graveyard dirt and sprinkles it over the top. With a sigh, she grabs the shovel and gathers some of the dirt from the hole she dug.

 _Point of no return._ She thinks as she covers the box with one shovelful of dirt.

And just as Rey is turning around to shovel another batch of soil, she feels it.

It’s the same feeling she gets when she is walking down a deserted alley late at night. Her intuition is prickling as if she is being watched by someone - something. The hair on the back of her neck stands up and her nerves tingle unpleasantly. Yet the feeling is heavier somehow. The air feels thicker, more electric. And her bones…well something is stirring deep in her marrow.

She drops the shovel with a bang, spinning around - eyes wide and searching.

Where is it? Her mind scrambles to right itself - to override the panic setting in.

“This is not what I was expecting.”

Rey lets out a gasp at the deep voice coming from behind her. She jumps forward a foot before turning around to see what she has summoned.

In all her years of hearing about demons, from the storybooks she inhaled as a child to the warnings on her newsfeed, this creature is everything she expected and more.

Tall. Oh so tall.

It looms over her, and she has to crane her neck to see it properly. The body is vaguely human. As if the cosmos has taken the human form and tugged a little here and there to make it stretch. The creature towers over her, blotting the moon from her vision. Its two arms are the size of her thighs in diameter and its legs are as thick as tree trunks. There is a head with a mass of what she assumes are curls. It is hard to tell what is what when this creature appears to have been dipped in an ink so dark it sucks in all traces of light. Its body swirls with the viscous ebony ink, shifting with every movement. And the hands are not human. They are long and pointed, reaching just beyond its knees - a far different ratio than any human she has met. Black liquid drips from the tips of its talons, plopping to the ground only to vanish.

 _Something primordial_ , her brain supplies. In this moment she knows all the myths and lore to be true. The story of the universe, the birth of magic and light and dark. The making of creatures swaddled in shadows that once walked among humans. All the stupid little bedtime stories that the adults chuckled about one second and then whispered in fear the next. All of it had to be true if creatures such as this exist.

She takes a step back so she can meet its eyes. They are the only things not covered in the inky, swirling darkness. Instead, they glitter with a red brilliance that makes her eyes ache.

 _Oh fuck._ It is the only thing that crosses her synapses as her eyes rove over his form. _Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck._ Her brain sings. The image of this creature, or something close to it, thrusting above her in her fantasy bubble to the forefront of her mind.

“So what’s the deal you want, little girl? Lost love? Unrequited? Fame?” What excitement had leeched into his deep voice upon first appearing is gone now. A deep moroseness has settled in its place as if it pains him to be here.

 _Well, that makes two of us,_ Rey thinks. Even as the timbre of his voice sends little sparks along the back of her neck, and she has to fight a blush. This could not be happening. She couldn’t do a deal with a being she imagined fucking her just last night. What if it could read her thoughts? What if it saw her desperate search for release while imagining its fingers inside her? Or it's cock?

And because she wants to get this over with, and thinks he does too, she musters her voice and says with the most confidence she can manage -

“I want to know about my parents.”

There is a long pause as if he hadn’t expected that response. Even without easily readable features, she thinks she can see surprise and confusion knitting his brow.

“Your parents? You summoned a crossroads demon to learn about your parents?”

There is a snort of derision in his voice - as if this is the stupidest thing he has ever heard. “And the internet couldn’t help? What about the police? Or a private investigator?”

“I did try those,” She says, defensive. _Who is this demon to judge her?_

“You do know what I do, right? I take souls in exchange for a deal. You want to make that trade to learn about your parentage? Bit of free advice, girl, if its that complicated you could go see a witch for a cheaper price.”

And then he starts to fade, melting back into the shadows as if she isn’t worth the trouble. She feels her cheeks heat in anger and panic. She made it this far. He couldn’t just go.

“I did see a witch. She told me to come here. To summon a demon.”

That stops him. He becomes a little more solid at this proclamation, and he slinks back toward her.

“Which witch did you see? Because there are a few that dabble in the soul trade and they could be trapping you.”

“Maz, from the shop Supreme Beings. She tried to look into my parents, but couldn’t see anything. Said I was warded and that your kind are the only ones that can undo the wards.”

He solidifies completely, crossing the distance between them before she even realizes he moved.

“Wards? Why would a human be warded?”

And without asking, he places a hand on her cheek and splays his massive fingers across the side of her face, engulfing her. His head comes in close, tilting off to the side. Her breath catches, heart pounding against her ribs like a caged bird. He mutters next to her ear, even as she tries to turn her head away. His fingers dig into her skin, keeping her in place. She goes rigid under his touch and has to slam down her sexual phantasms from the night before; his proximity threatening to make them rise to the surface.

Can’t let him see, she wills her mind.

Then he is gone, putting a few feet between them.

“She is right. I’ve never seen so many wards. And so intricately done. Whoever put them there was a master of their art.”

“Can you tell me who my parents are, then?”

He tilts his head back and forth, looking her over as if trying to make a decision on how to handle her.

“Wards like this are not easily broken. And I will have to break them to get what you request.”

“And?”

He shrugs and looks her in the eyes.

“So we will make a deal. It will take some effort on my part and I intend to get proper payment.”

Now they have come to the purpose of this meeting. It's the reason she placed a creepy box with a cat bone, a picture, and a dusting of grave dirt in a hole she dug in the middle of a crossroad. So Rey squares her shoulders, preparing for a negotiation. She has always had a knack for them. Perhaps she can get a decent deal.

“In exchange for breaking my wards and for telling me everything you learn about my parents…what do you want in return?”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“I want your memories of the person that put the wards on you.”

Rey sputters because she did not expect that answer. She had been prepared to negotiate down from her soul to maybe two years of servitude instead of eternity. Not a memory. Not one she isn’t even sure she has.

“A memory? I don’t even have that memory.”

He leans forward and taps her on the head with a long talon.

“Not now, but when I crack that skull of yours open I am sure it will come pouring out like yolk.”

“Gruesome much?” She hisses, and he smirks.

“Monster, remember. Gruesome is part of the package.”

She almost rolls her eyes at the little exchange, reminding herself she is dealing with a dangerous demon and not just another human with a dark sense of humor.

“Deal. My wards down and my parents' information in exchange for a memory about the being that warded me. So how do we do seal it? Blood pact?”

She offers out her hand, ready to fight back a wince as she expects him to slice both their palms open and clasp them together so their blood can mingle. But he just stares at her hand like she has lost her mind.

“No. Nothing so reductive.” He growls, and she drops her hand. “The deal is already made. The minute you speak any form of agreement it is enacted.”

“Oh.” She wishes Maz told her that essential piece of information. What if she had unwittingly agreed to something earlier? Then she glances up at him, setting her feet in resolve. She hardens herself, preparing for whatever comes next.

“So you going to crack my skull open now? Or you just going to loom over me for the rest of the night?”

She thinks if it is possible, that he smirks.

Then his hand is sneaking back over her cheek and across her face. Half of his long fingers weave into her hair and the palm of his hand rests just millimeters from her lips. Its the closest she has been to another in ages, not counting hugs or quick romps, and she shifts uncomfortably at the intimacy of the position. He chuckles, head falling back to the side in the same position it had been moments before - hovering just over her shoulder and tilted so his lips are almost touching her jaw.

His talon-like fingers slip into her skull, thin like needles, burrowing deep. Her scream catches in her throat as she tries to pull back. Her legs give out. But he holds her steady, pulling her body against his bent torso - as if they were simply dancing and he was dipping her. They stay frozen like that - her eyes locked on the night sky twinkling above them. Sees the clouds have parted to reveal a shimmering full moon. Suns wink at her and shooting stars skirt across the milky way in a blink. And though she is held motionless against this beast she feels as if the gears of the universe are spurred into a flurry of motion.

As if she is at the center of all those cogs and wheels.

The epiphany is fleeting as she becomes more aware of his talons going to work on her brain. And there is something else there, too. Something corporal pulling at strings and cobwebs. Like a ghost of his mind tugging at things that wrap around her brain.

“So lonely,” he mutters, “Left alone in this world.”

She can’t say a thing, not when she is stuck in his embrace and his fingers are buried in her head performing supernatural neurosurgery.

“So desperate for a family. For belonging.”

A lock snaps open in her brain, and suddenly she can feel a weight being lifted. As if a net had been cast over her thoughts and was now disintegrating.

“One down, girl. Hang in there. Just a few more to go.”

Oddly enough his words are soothing. So soft against her hair as he breathes them. The deep timbre of his words makes her stomach do little flips and she hopes he keeps talking just so she can keep feeling that flip-flop. Anything other than feeling his fingers sinking into her brain matter.

“Excellent work. Whoever did this, I’m going to hunt them down and get a lesson.”

Another lock snaps open and the same feeling of decomposing netting sweeps over her senses. She shudders, a chill running over her spine.

He freezes then, eyes going wide for a split second.

“Odd.” He mutters.

But then he is back to his ministrations, his head nearly touching hers as his fingers flow over her skull and his lips flutter with the quiet humming of a chant.

Another lock snaps open and the netting flies apart, this time ripped apart by a blinding hot light. She shrieks in surprise as a pulse of blazing white heat floods her veins and then outward from her body. The pulsing light sweeps across the road, reducing everything in a three-foot radius to rubble.

He flies away from her, dropping her to the ground as he puts as much distance between them as possible. His eyes are so wide she is sure her fist could fit through them.

“What the hell are you?” He growls, and his arms are at his side with talons at full extension. He is bent in an aggressive posture, as if ready to strike should she attack.

But she is too busy trying to make sense of all the feelings and memories flooding her mind. Not to mention the searing light that howls in her ears and barrels through her veins, burning away the remains of the wards. She twists onto her side and coughs. Black ink spills from her lips until there is a puddle so deep she can see her reflection in the swirls. Black ink like that covering the demon’s skin.

“What’s happening to me?” She croaks, falling onto her back as her body twitches in agony.

“You just coughed out the demon wards,” He supplies, though he isn’t really focused on talking to her. Instead, his eyes are glued to her writhing body.

“What did you do to me? This wasn’t part of the deal!” She screams as another spasm of pain shoots across her nerves and she arches her back so strongly all of her weight is on her tiptoes and her head.

“All I did was take down the wards!  This is your doing! Whatever it is, stop it.”

She feels more than hears his command in her gut. Deep and guttural. Without direction from her brain, her body goes completely still and taunt. Frozen in place - bespelled. The only things she can move are her eyes and lips, and those just barely.

His looming form comes into view. And she is very aware of how completely vulnerable she is, frozen and bent like a bow. Held up by invisible strings. She can feel the pressure of her blood on her head and toes, see the bursting of stars around the outline of his body. But all of that falls away as she looks into his eyes.

He leans down, grabbing her hand and pulling it up to his nose. Then he turns it to expose her wrist -

…and inhales deeply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, was that a cliffhanger? And was that the cosmos delighting in them finally meeting? Yes, even the cosmos ships reylo. ;)
> 
> So what do you think? I'm curious to hear your thoughts and predictions so please drop a note if you are so inclined. Perhaps you have an idea about who put the wards on Rey's mind? Or maybe you have a prediction about what Ben will do when he discovers Rey is an angel? You could even have some guesses about Rey's past? Or do you think Ben recognizes her from the coffee shop? Or any number of other ideas or questions. 
> 
> But more than anything, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and stick around. Next chapter should be up in a couple of days (it's already written just needs editing).
> 
> Have any questions or requests? You can also send them my way on tumblr [@ohsnapcrackle](http://ohsnapcrackle.tumblr.com).


	5. Unlocking a Mind and Stitching it Back Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even a choice made with the best of intentions can be the wrong one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless your souls! I am in awe of the response to the last chapter. Thank you all so much for reading and leaving little notes and kudos. There are no words to describe how wonderful it is to know you guys are enjoying this story! <3
> 
> So here is the second half of the demon deal from Ben's perspective. Enjoy his torture.

 

 

Only once before has he smelled something so provocative - two nights ago when a phantom being flickered behind his eyes as he thrust himself toward a spectacular release. But now the scent is stronger, pervading, and it fills his nose so that nothing else breeches is olfactory organs.

So saccharine and heavenly sweet.

Everything in his brain shatters and refocuses like a kaleidoscope flipping from one pattern to the next so swiftly all the colors blur into black. His mind is far past gone, leaving instinct in the driver's seat.

His hand slides up her wrist to grab her forearm, tugging so he has a better angle. His grip is so tight, out of fear of her slipping away, that the tips of his talons prick her skin. He rubs his nose over the delicate flesh of her exposed wrist, taking in breath after breath. A little whimper escapes her lips, drawing his eyes up to meet hers.

Like a puzzle piece falling into place, he realizes where he has seen her eyes before. They are the soulful eyes of the bundled up girl from the coffee shop. The one that called him out for trying to sniff her. The one that had unknowingly inspired his mating glad to rouse from years of neglect.

This time her eyes are not filled with mortified shock. No. They are wide with something else. Surprise, perhaps? And now that they are so close, he can see the little flecks of gold bursting through the brown of her iris. Hazel eyes. He remembers thinking she had eyes with a wisdom not befitting a human when he first met her.

Now he knows why her eyes are so immortal; so vast.

Holding her gaze, he drags his nose down her palm and lets his lips press to her pulse. Her eyes grow impossibly large, pupils dilating, and a shudder courses through her body. Her pulse jump under his lips.

Something tugs at the empty spot in his chest, like a string pulling taut.

Pulling his lips past his gums, teeth bared, he runs the tip of his canines against the soft pliable skin…

“What are you doing?” She stammers. Its a throaty whisper of a question, but it makes him pause long enough to break eye contact.

And reality comes crashing in.

It takes him a moment to convince his hand to detach from her arm and for his mouth to pull away. And it hurts to put distance between; his mating gland aches. As he distances himself, she lets out a little whimper of loss that makes his spine tingle.

Had she felt that tug between them? The one that grabbed at his chest?

“You smell…sweet,” He chokes out, staring down at her in disbelief.

“Um, thanks. I guess?” She shifts her eyes away for a second, unable to hold his gaze, “You think you could let me go now?”

“Let you go?” He can feel the confusion flash across his face. He hadn’t done anything. She was the one to stick herself in this awkward position to stop her own horrible writhing.

“I didn’t do this to you.”

“Like hell you didn’t,” She spits at him. Those eyes that were wide with wonder moments ago are now slitted with rage, “You told me to stop and so my body stopped. Your magic. Your doing.”

It takes a moment for the gravity of her words to seep into his brain. But when it finally clicks - what she means about it being his magic - his heart skips a beat. Skips two beats.

Curious to see if he is right, he thinks back to the moment he told her to stop writhing. Thinks about the tone of his voice and how he pulled that command from some latent, ancient chamber of his being.

“You are free to move,” He bellows, pulling a rumbling command from within.

Sure enough, the invisible strings holding her in place snap, and she falls to the ground with a yip of surprise.

Even though he suspected it would work, the shock of it courses through his bloodstream. Simultaneous thrill and panic flood his half-heart making it slam against his ribcage.

He knows this type of magic. Command magic. A magic only known to manifest between an alpha and an omega pairing. An ability only expressed by the alpha.

_It couldn't be..._

He takes a step back even as his eyes rove over the girl. She is picking herself up from the rubble of her own creation, glaring at him through slitted eyes.

Its this girl, with her wiry limbs and sun-kissed skin, that floods his heart with hope. Because those wards that encased her mind moments ago could only be woven by a master demonologist. And it took lots of power to weave such perfect wards - power a demon wouldn't spend on a human. And her smell, he can't ignore that. The heady, intoxicating smell of vanilla and sunlight that makes him irrational; that ignites his mating gland with one whiff. And he never should have smelled her in the first place - not with all those wards stretching across her brain. A girl that is sending every sign that she is - dare he even think it...

_....an Angel. An unmated, young, clueless Angel._

“You just going to stand there and stare at me with your mouth open?” She huffs after dusting off a significant layer of dust from her jeans.

And apparently, he is, because he can’t seem to formulate words. His mind is stuck repeating the word angel. Repeating it over and over as if it will help him grasp a reality he never imagined could happen to him.

“Hey, demon,” He almost jumps when he feels her finger digging into his chest, not realizing she is so close. Not sure what else to do, he looks down at her, meets those wide eyes.

“We still have a deal.” She pokes him in the chest again.

 _Deal? How can she still think about the deal after she summoned some of her angel juice to make rubble of this crossroad? To nearly burn him?_ But as he stares down into her eyes, it becomes clear that she doesn’t know she was responsible. She thinks its a side effect of the wards or something he did to her. Not something she did; not that she is something more than human.

 _Of course, she doesn’t know._ His brain supplies as it finally catches up to the situation. _How could she? That's what the wards had been for. To prevent someone like him finding her. To keep what she is hidden even from herself._

Because it is a horrible world out there for angels. Best that she be human instead.

Panic surges through him at the prospect of her walking back to her home, without her wards, and running across another demon.  She wouldn’t make it a block into the city without being accosted. And if she happens to stumble into Snoke’s territory and gets picked up by one of his men…

He shuts that thought down quickly, shuddering.

He can’t let her go back to the city. Not like this.

Silence fills the air as he thinks about what to do. He can’t forfeit the deal. The contract magic will not allow it. He will have to find a way to meet the deal without risking her safety. And that means keeping her in the dark about what she is. He needs to make sure she doesn’t start searching for answers and stumble on a demon den.

He does his best to ignore her, even though she stands so close and stares up at him with an imploring look. Her hair is fluttering in the gentle wind that has come along. Dirt dots her nose and cheeks…

Gods, he needs to do this before his instincts take over again.

“I haven’t forgotten our deal, little girl,” He whispers, closing the brief distance between them so he can loom over her. He expects her to take a step back in defense, but she stands her ground. Stubbornness flashes in her eyes.

If only he could…at least taste her. Touch her.

Because even now he can feel the little half of his soul doesn’t hurt as much in her presence.

He has to take a deep breath and remind himself that even if she is an angel, that doesn’t mean she is his angel.

The silence must have stretched too long because she decides to speak up. This time she cranes her neck to look at him.

“What about my parents? What did you see?”

He stares down at her and has to pull his focus from her lips back to her eyes. _Its getting worse_ , he thinks as he tries to rip his mind out of the gutter the best he can.

"How much do you remember?" He knows she hasn't seen much, yet. Her brain is like scrambled eggs, still trying to fix itself after being set free. But any second now and she could stumble on a revealing piece of information. Figure out what she is. He hopes she isn't that close.

He knows well that once a seed is planted in the brain - no matter what ends you go to stop it from sprouting - that it always finds a way to germinate.

So if she discovers she is an angel before he can get her wards back up, he will have to come up with a different plan.

"They are fuzzy. I can't see their faces, but I can hear them. They are talking in hushed whispers. Worried. Scared."

Her being what she is, he isn’t surprised to hear this is one of the memories pressing to the surface. There is only one way for an angel or a demon to enter the world, and that is through the consummation of an angel and demon. Meaning at the time of her birth, given what he can tell of her age, her parents' pairing would have been illegal. Her birth would have been illegal. Just like his.

But even with those depressing revelations, relief floods him. If she doesn’t remember the details then there is still time.

“Then I need to go back into your mind. I don’t think it would be safe for me to bring your repressed memories to the forefront. You are still adjusting to being without the wards. But I will tell you what I see after. Will that work?”

She hesitates. He can tell she wants those memories. Wants them now.

He pours reassurance into his voice, “You will still have the memories. One day they will resurface. But your brain needs to acclimate to thinking without the wards. If you don’t give it time it can do a lot of damage.”

Which would be true if she were human. As an angel she might have a headache for a day and then she will be fine. But she doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, that's fine then.”

He leans forward with her consent, raising his hand to cup her head once again. His fingers slip back through her hair, and his palm falls on her cheek. He tilts his head so his lips are a hair from her ear. He wishes he didn’t have to do things this way. It opens them both up to encouraging smells. It doesn’t help that her mating gland is a finger-length away.

 _I have done harder things than this._ He reminds himself, letting his eyes flutter closed as his fingers go to work.

There are many memories to comb through. It takes him a minute to sift through them until he lands on one that will be useful.

He doesn’t recognize her parents. Not that he expected to. He grew up in a different territory. Miles and politics would have separated them.

There is not much to say about her parents. Her demon father was young and handsome, with a smile like his daughter's. The angel mother looks more like her daughter but is a somber thing. Beautiful and sad. He can feel her emotions emitting from the girl’s memory. They are having a heated, whispered conversation. This must be the memory she was talking about…

_We can’t stay here, Ian. Not with Snoke on our trail. And we can’t go anywhere else. Not together. Not with Rey._

_We can still be together, love. The western territories have leaders that accept bonded couples. They would leave us alone._

_Rey’s mother does not look convinced. You know he won’t let us go. Not with a child angel. He smelled her, Ian. He knows._

_We are not taking her to that quack our mother suggested. I’ve heard stories about him, Evelyn. They are not good._

_Another figure comes into focus. She stands in a doorway, head almost touching the molding. A tall woman, with greying hair but young powerful eyes. Eyes like Rey. And even in a memory like this, Ben can see the aging glamor that dances across her skin. And despite her disguise, Ben immediately recognizes her._

_His mother’s words flash across his mind. We must always help those in need._

_And then his own memory is overshadowing this one. He was young, a tiny whip of a boy when the woman in a grey cloak appeared on his doorstep. Ben had answered the door, staring up at her in awe. And his mother, seconds later had shooed him off and told him to go find his uncle._

_Rey’s memory snaps back into focus suddenly. And he has to refocus his thoughts to pick up on the conversation he missed._

_“We can’t leave Rey here with you, Mother.” Rey’s mother is pleading._

_“I will keep her safe. That is more than you can offer her now.”_

_Rey’s grandmother’s words are cutting, and both of Rey’s parents wince. But they do not put up a fight. Instead, they appear to resign themselves to this plan._

_And then her grandmother is stepping forward, taking the face of her daughter in her hands._

_“I will give my life to protect her, Evelyn. I know what to do to protect her. But if you stay here, there will be no saving her from Snoke’s wrath. So you run. Run and don’t look back.”_

The memory starts to dissolve, but before it flutters away, Ben tugs on the edges looking for a little string that connects it to another memory. He finds it and gives it a tug. And finds himself in a place he knows well.

_A hut secluded away in the mountains with a simple garden and two junk cars._

But this is not his memory.

_Instead, there is Rey’s grandmother, still covered in those grey robes. But she is tugging along a little girl with bouncing buns. A girl with skin like sunshine and the aura of a rising sun._

_Momentarily he is enraptured by the blinding light radiating off the little girl._

_Until he hears that voice. His head snaps up, eyes prickling with his own tears at the sight of the figure standing on the porch of the cabin._

_“I thought you might come, Satine Kryze.”_

_“Can you help her? Please? I can’t lose her, too.”_

_The older man bends down, reaching a hand out of his long robes and motions for the little girl to come forward. He expects her to shy away. To duck behind the legs of her grandmother. But she does no such thing._

_She walks directly up to him,_ arm _outstretched to meet his…_

_Ben wants to scream at her to run away. To not trust this man…_

He doesn’t need to look any further to fulfill both ends of the bargain. She will have the information she needs to complete the contract, and he now knows who the demon is that warded her. Knows exactly where to find him.

Ben pulls back from the memory, letting his mind return to his body. Slowly he slips his fingers out of Rey’s head and places a hand on her waist as she slumps from fatigue. He gives her a moment to catch her breath, to step out of his grasp, before he answers the question that is eating away at her.

“Just tell me what you know. It is more than what I had before.” She says after righting herself.

He nods, impressed by her strength, and sucks in a breath. “Your parents were on the run from an old gangster. They couldn’t take you with them for fear he would use you against them. Their names were Ian and Evelyn, though I am unsure of their last name. I don’t think they were wed. But your father’s last name was Kenobi. You have his smile and eyes. Everything else you get from your mother.”

He pauses, trying to decide how to say what she is really looking for…

He goes for the simplest answer, “And they loved you.”

She draws back a step at that, tears welling in her eyes. But she shakes her head as if to push them away.

He leaves out her grandmother’s name. It hadn’t been part of the deal, and if Rey happened to look up her grandmother’s history it would surely stir more questions. But he knows Kenobi’s history, for a fact, had been erased. She could look all she wanted down that path and find nothing.

Rey takes time to absorb the information, staring off into the distance. He can tell little pieces are starting to fall into place. All of her memories are starting to reconnect, synapsis rebuilding after years of stagnation. He watches as her eyes flicker wildly, sometimes glancing up at him before something else flashes behind them. Finally, she turns back to him, questions in her eyes.

But she doesn’t ask them. “Well, I guess I owe you my part of the deal. Go ahead an take the memory you wanted.”

He huffs at that, “No need. I already got it. The deal is complete.”

“Oh, well. I guess that means we are done here.”

Which is true. They are done with the deal. But he isn’t done. Not yet. And he only has a limited amount of time to get this next part done so magic won't exact a full toll. If he can use the remainder of the contract magic to stitch her wards together then he won’t have to suffer the consequences of tapping into his own reserves. But time is ticking. He has a short grace period before the contract magic leaves him.

Ben nods his head and then takes another step forward. “In a sense. I need to put your wards back up, though. Which means you are going to forget all of this.”

Thrown for a loop, she makes a sudden step back as he advances.

“That wasn’t part of the deal. What do you care if my wards are in place or not?”

Which is a good question, because why should he care? But then he thinks back to his father who withstood so much trauma for marrying his mother. He thinks about the other things he has seen and heard that have happened to beings like her. And while all of those things have a bearing on the choice he is about to make, he can’t deny that part of it is an instinctive need to protect her. A need to see her safe and well.

“You see, the demon that put these wards on you did it for a very good reason. He wanted to protect you. So I am going to do the same. You won’t remember this. You won’t remember anything past visiting Maz the Witch and deciding not to follow her advice and seek me out. But you will feel fulfilled. You will know about your parents. Know they loved you, but know they can never come back to you. You can move on.”

“So I went through all of this for nothing? Just so I could forget again?”

He sighs heavily. “It is for the best that you forget.”

She panics. Its the only word he can use to describe the feral look that flashes across her eyes and the way they dart around the clearing plotting an escape. She takes a few steps back from him, hands coming up in front of her body as if to shield herself. He can see by the way she is acting he is not going to talk her down from this. And the spell that holds him to this crossroad is starting to slip now that the deal has concluded. He only has so much time before he will have to start drawing on his own force powers, and he does not want to do that.

So he advances on her, even as she turns and tries to run back to the car with panic in her eyes.

“Don’t you touch me!” She screams, grabs the shovel on the ground and tries to swing it at him. He doesn’t even bother with ducking. It glides right through his corporeal body as if he is made of ink. She gapes at him, even as he grabs the other end of the shovel and wrenches it from her grasp. He tosses it off to the side of the road. She watches it bounce, eyes flickering between the shovel and him.

“Isn’t there some law that says you can’t hurt me?” She demands, taking large steps back and preparing to run again.

“I’m not, girl.” He hisses. He reaches out to grab her arm, but she is quick and manages to avoid his grasp. She dashes for her car. He rolls his eyes at her, even as she slides into the driver’s seat, slams the door shut, and fumbles for her keys. Far more human than angel, he thinks as he pulls on his reservoir of force and teleports to stand right behind her. He rips the door open, making the hinges squeak in protest. Panicked she looks up at him with those wild hazel eyes, and then she is trying to kick him.

Like it doesn’t just go right through his body like the shovel did. _Feisty damn thing._

Once she realizes that won’t work, she starts clambering across the console to the passenger seat. Her hand reaches for the handle to the passenger door. Tired of this game, Kylo grabs her ankle and drags her toward him.

“I’m not going to hurt you. So stop trying to get away and be still.”

His voice holds that commanding tone that it has newly acquired. Even though he intended to use it, the effect is still surprising. She does indeed stop, her legs falling limp in his grasp and it's like all the air went out of her body. She doesn’t move a muscle, though he can see the panicked fury in her eyes. Feel the sting of them.

_Well, if she hadn’t tried to run, they wouldn’t be in this situation._

_Ass_ , the word rings through his mind as if he thought it himself. But it's in a much higher pitch than his voice, and its time for his eyes go wide. She didn’t just speak into his mind? Then a few more words follow. _If you do something freaky to me I swear I will find all the salt in the city and pour it down your throat until you choke._

He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it. At least someone did their homework. Too bad she wouldn’t remember that she needed to salt him once he was done. His heart flutters sadly, realizing once he does this that will be the end. There won’t be any more time with this little feisty clueless angel. He will have to let her go free.

He tries to push such thoughts out of his mind. He can contemplate this loss later. Right now he needs to get this done.

She is slumped over the car seats, legs loosely hanging out of the car from where he half drug her across the seats. He slides over her body, shifting his form so he can hover over her upper half. He is a big guy, especially in his demon form. And she has a small car.

He thinks about commanding her to sit up and scoot closer to the door so he won’t have to climb over her. It would be far less intimate. And he won’t have to think so many inappropriate thoughts. But he can only compromise so much tonight.

Even though he tries to tell himself its because he doesn’t want to command her again, he knows he really just wants to loom over her. He wants to burn this image into his head for all the lonely nights ahead. And he should feel sick for taking advantage of this woman in this way. But he doesn’t.

Something inside him purrs at the thought of her being so pliant underneath him. So at his whim. Especially as her eyes shine with fire.

She won’t remember this, his mind keeps whispering. That traitorous little part of his brain that is suddenly so alive with the proximity of an angel in his grasp. An omega one at that. One that listens to his commands like a good little omega would.

Fuck, he is in trouble.

Knowing he needs to end this before he leaves this situation feeling like an abhorrent dark creature, he slides his hand gently over her face. His fingers trace the gentle slope of her check before wrapping a tendril of her soft hair around a digit. He imagines if the universe asked him what he wanted his mate to look like, she would be its rendering. Tall, slender, all whipcord and muscle. But smoothed over with soft curving hips, pert little breasts, legs for days. And skin that glows like the sun. Expressive eyes. Tender lips. She is a damn beautiful angel.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” He says before he leans his forehead against hers. And it is more for himself than it is for her.

A way of saying goodbye to a possibility.

He slips into her mind and begins his work. Pulling at strings and binding the force to build netting just like her old ones; protecting each layer of light pouring from the creature below him. Hiding her from reality. Tucking away all the demons that should become nightmares. Weaving little neurons and dendrites together and making new and old channels retrofit until he is satisfied.

He does all he told her he would. She won’t remember anything. She will think she spent tonight just driving around and thinking. She will come to the realization that it is time to move on from her parents. She will be satisfied.

And when he is done with all his promises, he weaves in one last little strand. A backup. Just in case something unforeseen happens. He thinks the words carefully as he weaves them into a deep section of her mind.

“If your wards change, if you are in danger, or if you have questions about angels and demons. Find me.”

Then he presses on that part of her brain that induces unconsciousness and watches as her eyes roll back in her head. With a deep sigh of resignation, he presses his lips to her forehead before prying himself out of the car. Slowly he adjusts her body so she is sitting, finds her keys and plugs them in the ignition. With one last glance, he closes the door.

“Wake up and drive home safely. Wake tomorrow morning feeling refreshed.” He uses his commanding voice, overriding his earlier demand. And like a string has snapped under tension, she suddenly bursts back to life.

He disappears before she can see him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. Another cliffhanger-ish. And Ben let her go? I know some of you are thinking 'what the crap, I thought he was going to make her his sex-slave-angel' or were at least expecting some hanky-panky. (Sorry to disappoint - I'm a bit disappointed myself.) But isn't he just the sweetest demon?
> 
> I certainly hope you are enjoying yourself. Thank you for reading. And if you feel up to it, please drop a note! As always, I love to read your thoughts and responses. I REALLY love reading your predictions (especially when you guys guess correctly and make me realize I am not as sneaky as I like to think I am - HUMBLE ME! I need it!). All kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks...or just reading are more than appreciated. <3
> 
> And extra kudos and love if anyone can figure out which movie inspired the idea of Ben 'planting a seed' in Rey's mind while rebuilding her wards. If you figure it out, you are close to knowing where the next couple of chapters are headed.
> 
> Next up, we get to see what happens now that Rey is 'free'. How will the cosmos bring them back together?
> 
> Have a tumblr? Come say hey [@ohsnapcrackle](http://ohsnapcrackle.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Germinating Seeds & Half the Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you seek legal advice and ask a guy for coffee at the same time. And then he gives you mixed signals. And somehow a police file gets involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _***NOTE* I added the tags 'mind manipulation', 'implied/referenced torture', and 'implied/referenced rape'. It was pointed out that Ben's altering of Rey's mind was without consent and I want to make sure everything is tagged appropriately. Other tags were added for later chapters (though no one will be raped in this story - there will be references to other angels being harmed in the future).** _
> 
> Sorry this is a little later than usual (and probably an editing mess - I'm going cross-eyed after 8k words). Somehow the 4th of July lasted an entire week. But let me say you guys are too amazing! Thank all of you for your support of this rather odd fic. It's so heart-warming to see your kudos, bookmarks, and read your comments. Once more, THANK YOU! <3
> 
> This time we delve into Rey's POV for the day after her run-in with demon Ben. Fate is dragging our two star-crossed lovers back into each other's orbit, and Rey is starting to play a spicy little game with only half the rules. Oh, and plot abounds. Enjoy.

 

“I swear on Finn’s flight jacket, Rey, if you don’t come down in five I’m breaking in!”

Rey groans as she turns over in her little bed, sheets all tangled about her feet. At some point in the night, she kicked them off with her twisting and turning. Wide awake and staring up at the ceiling, she doesn’t feel bothered to answer the door and let Rose in.

She needs time to think. Because she feels like she has forgotten something significant. Almost like she has a word at the tip of her tongue but can’t formulate the syllables. There is a desperate, clinging need in her chest for her to figure out what is out of place. But with every knock or bang from Rose the little sliver of memory slips away.

Normally she would be up and bustling around. And she knows Rose is concerned and that she really needs to roll out of bed and let her in. Face Rose’s anger for not answering a single one of her texts. Rey tilts her head to see her phone resting on her pile of clothes, screen blank. Her stupid phone lost its charge after the hundreds of texts Rose and Finn sent last night. And she forgot to plug it in when she finally made it home and collapsed face first into her sheets.

“Rey!” She hears a rock smack against her bedroom window. With a sigh, she stumbles out of bed and over to the window. She slides it open, ignoring the groan of old gears, and dodges the next pebble meant to hit the glass.

“Oh, Rey! I didn’t hit you, did I?” Rose calls up, switching from aggressively irate friend to apologetic in the blink of an eye.

“Nope. Just missed my right eye. Good shot by the way.”

Rose preens. “I’ve been practicing.”

Rey smirks, “Give me a second and I’ll be down, alright?”

Rose gives her a salute before walking back to the front of the house.

She reaches for her pants from last night. But as she tries to shuffle into them she realizes they are caked in dirt. Pausing, she drops them to the floor and grabs her shirt. Same thing; it's completely covered in dust.

_What did I do last night to get so dirty?_  She wonders. But all she can remember is driving around. Nothing that would involve dirt. Unless her car got stuck somewhere and she had to push it out of the mud. But she knows she would remember that.

Hearing her name echoing up from the front door, she tosses the two questionable clothing items to the floor. She can figure that out later. Quickly she grabs a pair of pants and a long sweater before bouncing down the stairs to the front door and greeting Rose with a big smile.

“Bout time, Rey. What is going on? You didn’t answer any of our texts and then you wouldn’t come to the door this morning. It's not like you.”

Rey shrugs, closing the door behind Rose as she enters and then making for the kitchen. Rose follows behind, tossing her coat on the rack by the door.

“Want some eggs and bacon?”

“Sure, but stop evading.” Rose slides onto an old barstool at the small makeshift island Rey salvaged.

“I’m not evading. I just drove around most of the night thinking. Decided not to go through with Maz’s suggestion.”

Rose does not look convinced.

“You just drove around all night? And you couldn’t be bothered to shoot us a simple little text saying you decided not to summon a demon? Rey, we were up all night worried sick. I had to physically restrain Finn at least three times from getting in the car to go search for you.”

Rey stops what she is doing to meet her best friend’s eyes, hearing the concern and hurt laced in the words. She can see it etched in the furrow of Rose’s brown. In the way, her buoyant friend looks deflated.

“Oh, Rose. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry so much. I got a little caught up in my own thoughts.”

Rose lets out a heavy sigh and then rolls her eyes, “I guess I can understand that. Going to that witch probably wasn’t the best idea. And then to get your hopes up. I guess we should be the ones apologizing for that.”

Rey waves a hand as if it is nothing, “You don’t owe an apology for that. In fact, I think it helped. It made me really think about how much time I have wasted on my parents. And I decided I was done searching. It's time to move on. In a way, it helped me get to the point I could make my own closure.”

“Wow,” Rose smiles at her, “Well, you are welcome?”

With that now out of the way, Rey turns back to working on breakfast while Rose titters behind her. As the unsettling feeling from the morning bleeds away, and she finally gets some food in her belly she starts feeling significantly better. Much lighter than she has in weeks.

“So now that you have closure, what is your next move?” Rose asks over a strip of bacon. They are both hovering over their plates at the island, chattering away.

“I thought I might sell it. I mean, it's in such bad shape and I don’t have the time to put into it. I’m sure there is someone out there that would like to fix this up.”

“Sounds like a great idea! Everyone wants to move into this area, anyway. Then you could use the money to get a nice apartment uptown. Be closer to your friends so we don’t have to drive all the way out here to see you.”

“It's a five-minute drive, Rose.”

Her friends shrug, “Not when you count the time finding your car in the garage and then time to search for a parking spot. That makes it like fifteen. That's not even counting traffic. And when you are a city resident, that is far too much effort.”

Rey snorts at that and finishes off her bacon.

“Anyway, since the house is technically in a trust until I turn twenty-five. I’ll have to swing by the lawyer’s office to see what I can do. Does Poe still handle estate law?”

“If it's your estate, you bet.”

“I’ll give him a call then. Hopefully, he isn’t too busy.”

——

Poe’s office is in a prime location on the fourteenth floor of one of the numerous skyscrapers downtown. When the elevator doors open she is not surprised to see the space looks exactly as it did when she was here last. Its really tastefully done, as if his paralegal assistant BeeBee would allow for anything else. Though it is covered in more aeronautical references than an airport. There is the tip of a jet wing hanging from the exposed ceiling and various propeller blades cling to the wall. Sepia tone images of vintage planes and pilots dot the walls. Even Poe’s bomber jacket from his years in the military hangs pristinely on the wall, encased in glass.

It's a bit intimidating to stand in such an imposing lounge when you are coming to see a friend about a trust and selling a house. But Poe has always been there for her. They were quick friends after meeting in an introductory engineering course, though Poe changed his major to law. He soon realized he loved strategy and adrenaline too much to stick with the plane design. His love of flight still holds true, though.

She walks up to the counter, a sizable island covered in salvaged plane metal and reclaimed wood. Immediately the secretary behind the desk looks up and smiles pleasantly.

“You must be Rey. Poe was just telling me you would show up. Let me give him a call.”

It doesn’t take long for Poe to round the corner, smile beaming across his face.

“Peanut, its been far too long!” He engulfs her in a strong hug that has her laughing and gasping for breath at the same time.

“Hey, Poe. It has. You haven’t been out for drinks in weeks. Finn even wagered that you have been dead and buried under a pile of files for weeks.”

“Pretty damn accurate, actually. That's what these last couple of weeks have felt like.”

“Oh, well if you are that busy I can -“

But he cuts her off, throwing an arm over her shoulder and steering her down the hallway he emerged from.

“Nonsense. I’ve always got time for my old friend. Besides, I could use the break from contract law. Ready to cut my teeth on something a little easier.”

She stops protesting at his words, reassured she isn’t an imposition.

“Let me give you a little forewarning, though. My office is a mess at the moment and I’m already set up in one of our conference rooms. We’ve got a major case at the moment, and it would be hell to clean up. If you're okay with it we can go over your trust in there.”

“Sure, Poe. Whatever is easiest for you.”

He gives her a squeeze on the shoulder, “I’m also telling you this because one of my partners is on the case and will be working in the conference room at the same time. He’s extremely reliable and discrete, but he can be intimidating. And I'm being generous with that description. But he is damn good at any type of law including contracts, trusts, hell anything to do with bargains. So if I can’t figure out how to get your house sold, he can.”

“Oh, that’s alright. But Poe, I can’t afford to pay for two lawyers right now. Student loans are still draining me.”

He shrugs it off, “As if you are paying for any lawyer as long as I am around. It's my practice, so I’ll worry about him.”

She doesn’t know if she likes the sound of that, but they are already standing at the doors to the conference room and he is shuffling her in before she can protest.

“So, Ben Solo, this is my good friend Rey Doe I was telling you about. The one with the trust and the house she is looking to sell?”

There is a palpable silence that fills the air, and the man pouring over papers at the conference table looks up and meets her eyes. There is a spark of recognition, and she sees him immediately go still. Rey for her part stares at him trying to place where she has seen him before.

Then it clicks.

That night she met Rose for a drink on the Southside of town, she had dropped into that little coffee shop on her way home. But before she stepped into the shop, she had noticed him. He was sitting at a table near the window, looking out to the street with a far off expression. It had been enough for her to stop mid-reach for the coffee shop door and stare at him.

Normally she doesn't notice men like that. But there was something about the loneliness in his eyes that called to her. So did the way his tie hap-hazardously hung over his wrinkled work shirt. Or there was the way his downturned lip seemed at odds with his sculpted face. Even the hint of collarbone that poked out from the loosened buttons at the top of his shirt drew her attention.

She couldn't pinpoint exactly what drew her attention. But he held it until someone hit her with the door as they stepped out of the shop. And when she finally entered, still apologizing for standing in the doorway, she had stepped up to the cashier in a flustered hurry. Then there was that awkward moment where she accused him of sniffing her, only to learn he had a cold. Then came the cold humiliation of being an ass in front of someone she found so ensnaring.

Of course Poe, not one for silence, and ever nosey steps in, “Do you two know each other?”

And that breaks the spell.

They both talk over the other.

“-We ran into each other at the coffee shop.”

“-Saw at a coffee shop.”

And Poe’s head swivels back and forth between them, an eyebrow raised. And Rey knows exactly what is coming next and decides to head him off at the pass before he can humiliate them. Because Poe would, the sneaky bastard.

“We had an awkward moment. He was looking at gift cards and I mistakenly accused him of sniffing me. But he had a cold. And I am sorry for that, by the way.” She tosses a blinding smile at him, and she thinks his cheeks redden a bit.

“Mistakenly thought he sniffed you?” Poe starts to cling to that, mouth opened to respond. But one glare from his partner across the room silences him before he says another word.

If looks could kill, Rey thinks. And stashes the image of that dark glare away - hoping she can somehow duplicate it to use on Poe in the future.

Ben stands, holding out a hand across the table, “But that means we haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Ben Solo, pleased to meet you. And I also apologize for my awkwardness.”

Her beaming smile still in place, she shakes his hand. She can’t help but focus on the deep timbre of his voice, or the smooth way those words flow from his mouth. Feels a strange little spark.

Next thing she knows Poe is shoving her into a chair and tossing a file folder onto the table in front of her.

“Let's take a look at this trust, Rey. Are you going to help, Ben? Or do you want to keep working on the other case?”

Ben clicks the pen he was holding and then places it on the table. With a shrug, he wheels his chair toward them.

“Thought so,” Poe smirks and then pushes away from the table with a spark to his eye. “You know, I didn’t realize how late it is. We haven’t had lunch yet. You hungry Ben?”

“I could eat,” He mumbles, pulling her file toward him and starts flipping.

“How about you, Rey? Company’s treat?”

Not one to turn down free food, Rey nods, “Works for me. But I can’t imagine it would take that long to look at my file. I don’t want to hold you two up.”

Ben doesn’t say a word, leaving it up to Poe.

“What are you talking about, Peanut? You never hold me up!” And then he disappears out of the room leaving the two of them alone.

Rey turns her chair back around, setting her elbows on the table and tries to look as casual as possible. She is sure it isn’t working. Her hands are dancing along the table edge, and she keeps shuffling her feet.

“Looks simple enough,” He says, breaking the silence and Rey almost sighs in relief. Tension was starting to build, and she is sure the heat is up way too high. And every-time he shifts or moves she is hit by a wave of his scent - a delicious bitterness with a hint of musk that makes her feel light headed. But it seems familiar, somehow. She knows she has smelled it at least once before.

He leans a little more on the table, putting the file down to look at her. When their eyes meet, he runs a hand through his hair and she thinks she sees a little of that sheepishness she saw the day in the coffee shop when she embarrassed him. He rubs the back of his neck absently, freezes, and then slams his hand down the table as if he was burned.

It shocks her and she jumps.

“Sorry, he mutters, “reflexes got the better of me.”

Then he slides the file toward her across the table. Realizing how uncomfortable it will be for him to point at things across the expanse of the table, he rolls his chair to her side. He isn't too close, but close enough he can comfortably walk her through the paperwork.

He leans back in his chair, resting one leg on the other in a far more casual recline that puts her at ease. He doesn't seem as stiff or stodgy as he had when a table separated them.

She is finding it distracting to watch his foot flip up and down in the air, one of his hands resting on his ankle. As if nervousness is wearing on him, too. And she really does try to listen to what he is saying in that deep voice that makes her insides warm. Yet her thoughts keep drifting to ones about him.

Like how he smells of dark chocolate and some heady mix of bitterness and musk. How his fingers clench and unclench around the pen he is using to point out important parts about her trust. How when he finally drops his pen and turns to look at her, and that bitter scent spikes dramatically that it is enough to make her cheeks heat. And that damn spot on her neck starts aching, sending little zips of awareness down her spine. It goes directly to her crotch, and she squeezes her thighs together tightly.

She catches his eyes flicker to her thighs, sees him look away as his Adam's apple bobs.

Not sure what to do to end his horrible awkwardness that is growing, Rey opens her mouth and hopes something smart comes out. It’s not smart, per se, but its better than silence.

“I hate to ask, but is the heat working okay in here?”

He turns back to look at her and runs his eyes over her body. It makes her flush, but it doesn’t feel sexual. More of an inventorying look, as if he is trying to check off a series of things in his head. She isn’t sure that is better than having him look at her in want.

“I am sure our heating system is working fine. How long have you felt hot?”

Its an odd question for a lawyer to ask, but she doesn’t see why it would hurt to answer. “Not long. Just now, I think. Seemed okay in the lobby.”

He nods, “And did you have a fever this morning?”

She shakes her head, “Why should I? I felt fine. Actually better than fine this morning.”

Something about that statement makes his mouth quirk a little in humor, but she can’t imagine what would be funny about that. “Why do you ask?”

“There is that cold going around. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t give it to you.”

Which is really sweet when you think about it. That he is concerned. But something in the way he is looking at her like he knows more than she does, makes her think she is missing a big piece of the puzzle. Like she is sitting playing a game with only half the rules.

“Oh, well thanks for your concern. You know I didn’t mean to embarrass you. At the shop.”

And she has always been the type of person that just asked for what she wanted. Perhaps it was something from years in the foster system. Or maybe it was a bit of her personality. But she doesn't think twice about the words that bubble out of her mouth, even as she blushes a bit.

“You should let me make that up to you. How about I buy you a cup of coffee sometime? Its the least I could do.”

And though it comes out sounding casual, it isn't. Not in the least. But there is something about this man that catches her interest and she is curious about him.

And her body is screaming that it really wants to know him.

His demeanor changes. Suddenly he is sitting up in his seat, back completely straight. His eyes are wide and dark as if suddenly fallen into a wave of passion. His nostrils flare and he has to shake his head for a moment. His hands fall to the armrest and she can see white knuckles where he is gripping so hard.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

She looks away then, cheeks tinted bright red with embarrassment. She had thought he would answer yes. Or that his only objection would be to her buying the drink. He seems like one of those guys. She hadn’t at all expected the rejection, not after the way he keeps looking at her.  

“Oh, forget I asked.” She turns a little in her chair, hurt. “Please don’t tell Poe. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Rey,” His voice is warm and calls her back to look at him, “I don’t mean it as a rejection. I would very much like to get coffee with you. But I am not in a place where that is currently an option. Please understand.”

And he pins her with a look that is both pleading and demanding. As if he can’t decide which part of himself he wants to display.

“Maybe I was asking as a friend. Or someone that wants to be a friend. I mean you work with Poe. How bad could you be?”

There is a heavy sigh, and Rey winces. Gods, can she just let up? She feels like she is digging her grave even bigger. But she can’t seem to stop the words vomiting out of her mouth.

“You didn’t mean that as a friend. And unfortunately, I couldn’t do that either - be your friend.”

The way he says the last statement makes her insides curl pleasantly. And she has to shift her legs again. His eyes don’t leave hers this time to drop to her thighs, but she can tell he knows. He can tell what he is doing to her. What his smell, what his proximity, what his damned voice are doing to her.

I need to get laid, she thinks to herself. Its been too long. That is why she is having this reaction.

She gasps when his hand finds her knee and squeezes. He’s stopped reclining in the chair and is now sitting with both legs anchored on the floor. His torso leans forward into her space. He is bent over so far that he has to look up at her. She stares down at him with wide eyes. This position, which is so submissive on his part, causes her to shuffle her legs again. Now that they are touching it seems her body has gone into overdrive.

She can smell everything on him from the oatmeal he had for breakfast to the sheen of sweat that clings to his torso from wearing a wool coat. And she can look into his eyes, a dark brown that could swallow her whole.

His hand inches up her thigh and then pauses. As if he has to think and stop himself.

“Sure seems like you would like to get that coffee,” She mutters, her voice huskier.

That makes him pause and she thinks the spell around them is about to break. That he is going to slide his chair back and rake a hand through his hair and apologize for being so forward. Especially after he turned down her offer for a date.

But it only lasts a millisecond, and his eyes go even darker. And she is pretty sure he just lost part of that little war that was raging behind his eyes.

“I actually hate coffee. Too bitter. I like things sugary sweet. So sweet they make your teeth ache when you bite into them.”

And she doesn’t know why he is telling her this, except that she knows they aren’t talking about coffee anymore. And he does all this while he makes soft circles against her knee. She feels like melting into her chair and becoming a puddle on the floor because when he squeezes just above her knee everything in her body squirms delightfully.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he places his other hand on her other knee and then drags her forward in the chair into the space between his legs - his insanely long, thick legs.

Oh hell, she is in so much trouble.

And she feels a little trapped and everything feels so heavy and lite at the same time. But she doesn’t push away, instead, she feels desire swirl.

“And I bet, if I took a bite of you, my entire body would ache from your sweetness.”

He kneads at the muscles above her knees, and his eyes are darker now. Black. And she can hear both of their heavy breaths echoing off the glass panel walls of the office.

If she was in her right mind, she might care that anyone could walk by and see them. But she can’t think properly at the moment.

“Yeah, there are better things than coffee,” She says stupidly, not even sure if the statement makes any kind of sense.

She can feel the reverberations of his chuckle through his hands as he hums.

“Mmm,” he acknowledges, and then his right-hand moves much farther up and Rey lets out a little gasp. She had known it was coming. Wanted it. And she is suddenly so for this. For letting a man she doesn’t know slide his hand up even further and press against her upper thighs. Why she wants to crush his hand between her thighs and let him rub away all these sparks that have gathered in the apex of her thighs.

Why she is willing and pliant while sitting in the middle of a glass conference room where anyone can surely see what they are up to.

As if he heard her thoughts, he leans in and his lips skim the outer shell of her ear. She shudders as his breath stimulates the skin and little hairs. She feels electrified.

“Is that what you want, little angel?”

She doesn’t bother to ask him how he knows what she is thinking. It doesn’t matter. Emboldened, she tucks a hand in his hair and tugs him closer so she can whisper in his ear.

“Will you?”

And then she lets go, watching him pull back for a second. Their eyes meet, intensity weighing heavily on them both. And they are both not thinking clearly, despite the fact they just met and are encased in a glass room. And though the thought presses against her temple, she can’t help but feel there is more here than just a simple intense attraction. Something more is going on. And for once her intuition isn’t screaming at her to stop and think but is telling her to push forward. It's telling her he is a safe bet, that this won’t be the epic fuck-up her brain surely says it will be. And heaven saves her because its that primal part of her that is drowning out all the other voices.

A silent contract passes between their stares, and it is enough. He is leaning back over her, lips hovering over her ear again. His right hand is still on her upper thigh and his left is kneading her knee, squeezing. And it's that right hand, the one that started this all, that she knows is up to no good.

“Part,” He whispers with a deep command she feels in her marrow. A dark and compelling command that has her legs snapping apart as if magic strings have grabbed her knees and yanked them apart.

“Good girl,” He whispers into her ear, running his lips along the cartilage. And she purrs at the words, melting so her legs part even further of their own accord. He chuckles a bit. “Like that, do you?”

She doesn’t have the chance to make a remark. That right hand, the one she knew was going to be trouble, is slowly grazing the inside of her open thigh. It takes its time with a torturing slowness that eventually has her tugging at his wrist to make it go higher. He laughs at that.

And she really wishes she had the foresight to wear a dress instead of jeans. They put far too much fabric between them. But that thought disappears as he palms her sex through her jeans. He doesn’t lose that smirk as her head falls back and her hips buck forward into his palm. He takes advantage of her neck being exposed, lets his lips barely touch her skin. He doesn’t suck or lick. Just hovers. And then she feels it. Something a tad bit sharp, like a tooth. He is grazing her skin with his teeth.

She hisses as his dangerous hand starts to hone in on her clitoris, pressing down on the seam of her jeans until he finds the exact spot. And using her clothing against her to generate more friction, he starts to press and circle. Within seconds she is mewling lightly. Zings are flying up and down her body. Her hands fly to his shoulders as her body naturally rubs against his finger and palm.

She squeezes her thighs close for a second as he starts to run another finger up and down the seam, pressing against her wetness and simulating stroking her labia. It makes her buck, even more, hips leaving the chair in search of more attention. More. More.

A noise from the hallway makes them both freeze, and they turn to look through the glass. There is no one there, yet.

“Yes, sandwiches from Canto are just fine. You know what to order.”

At the sound of Poe’s voice, they become a whirlwind of movement. She is trying to straighten her pants and hide the fact she is nearly soaked through. Hopes she doesn’t smell as bad as she knows she does. Ben is up and moving toward a console at the end of the room, pulling air freshener and spraying the room before tossing it back in the cubby. He returns to his seat and pulls it back to his original position. She motions to his hair, where some bits are askew. He mouths a thank you just as Poe saunters back into the room.

“So, Cantos it will be. What did you two discover while I was gone? And why does it smell like fake clean laundry in here?”

Rey knows she is as flushed red as the wall art hanging over the console, and just eyes Poe like a deer in headlights. Words don’t register, and she is too busy trying to force the thoughts about what happened out of her mind.

Ben clears his throat, and he looks less out of sorts though she can see the tint to his nose and cheeks even across the room.

“There was a strange smell coming from the vents. We might need to call someone about the heating system. Rey was just saying it felt a little hot in here, and I am inclined to agree with her.”

If her head could whip around any faster it would have flown off her shoulders. She pins him with a look of half awe and half fear.

Smooth bastard, she thinks. And his eyebrow quirks as if he heard it.

“Huh, they were here a couple of months ago. I’ll let Jessica know to give them a call again. So what did you find out about the trust?”

Ben adjusts his shirt and tie, falling back into professional mode. The air feels far less heavy and pregnant now that Poe is here and the moment of rushed heat between the two of them has passed.

“It's a standard trust. All assets are passed down to Ms. Doe at the age of 25. The house is included in this. The easiest way to sell the house is to get your Trustee to sign off on the paperwork to start the sell of the house.”

“My trustee?” Rey’s head darts between Poe and Ben. “What trustee?”

Poe gives her an odd look, eyes popping up from the paper he is looking at, “You don’t know who holds your trust in care?”

Her silence answers that question.

“Rey, how have you gone this long without knowing who kept your house in trust? And your assets?”

“I have assets?”

Poe’s eyes flash across the room to meet Ben’s, which now have a concerned shadow passing over them. Something is exchanged in their looks and then Ben is looking directly at her.

“Rey, how did you know the house was in trust?"

She shrugs, “After my grandmother passed this woman came to the funeral. Said she was my guardian and my Aunt Daphne. She told me we would stay in the house because my grandmother left it to me. Unfortunately, she died two days later. I didn't hear anything else about the trust until I applied for financial aid for college. Even then the house was the only thing mentioned."

Poe turns to her, pen flickering in his fingertips, “Your Aunt Daphne? Was her last name Kenobi?”

Something about the name makes something in Rey’s brain sputter. As if gears are grinding but unable to work in sync. Concern passes over both of their faces, even as Rey's face heats as she struggles to get words out. Finally, that feeling passes, and the words come tumbling out.

“I don’t know.”

“Rey, are you okay?” Ben’s voice drifts soothingly across the room, “Poe, maybe we should give Rey a moment. It's obviously a shock-“

Poe persists, ignoring Ben’s words, “That's who is listed as your Trustee. If she died when you were young it should have fallen to someone from the state or a family lawyer to see this through.”

Rey takes in a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing and to get her mind to stop fluttering in fear. She should have thought more about digging into her past, what it could possibly dredge up.

“I don’t know about all that, Poe. Everything during that time in my life was such a blur. I was seven. So even if someone did step in, I don’t remember. You know how hard those years were.”

She pins her old friend with her biggest, saddest eyes. And he drops the subject.

“Sorry, Rey. I didn’t mean to stir up such memories.”

She reaches over and squeezes his hand, giving him a soft smile. “I know you only mean the best.”

And she turns to give Ben a similar smile, nodding her head and whispering a thank you. Because she noticed how he caught her dismay, how he was ready to step in. And now she really wishes he would take her up on that cup of coffee because she thinks she could really start to like him. She already knows he has the full approval of her body. Saw how he reacted to her.

“-And what do we have, here?”

The sudden intrusion breaks the atmosphere of the room as everyone snaps their head toward the door to see Jessica, the woman from the desk come skidding into the room. A man with bright red hair flashes a sneer behind her and behind him is the tallest woman she has ever laid eyes on.

“I am so sorry, Poe,” Jessica bumbles into the room, harried, “I told them to wait,” She pins the two people behind her with daggers, “But they insisted it was an emergency.”

Poe manages to shake off the shock and waves it off, giving Jessica an indulgent smile.

“It's okay, Jessica. I wouldn’t expect them to show actual manners. As you two can see, I am currently with a client. You can wait as Jessica insisted in the lounge,” Poe snaps at the two visitors.

Jessica shuffles to show them out, but they push through regardless.

“I am sure your charity case can wait,” The man hisses, looking down his pointed nose at Rey as if she smells horrible. Then his eyes slide over to Ben, dismissing her presence. “This can not.”

Poe is standing up, cheeks flushed in anger now. “You can walk your ass right out of here, Hugs if you are going to insult my clients and friends.”

The man turns a little red at the nickname, and Rey doesn’t bother to fight back a snicker. His bright eyes snap back to her, an eyebrow raised.

Knowing it is time to leave, Rey stands up and grabs her purse.

“It's okay, Poe. I think I need some fresh air, anyway. Why don’t we pick this up another time?”

Poe looks like he is going to protest, but she knows he is aching for a battle with this new arrival more than he wants to help her. His hot-blooded temper is raised, and she doesn’t want to get caught in whatever crossfire is about to start.

“-And it was a pleasure to meet you, Ben Solo. Hope to see you around.”

And she has to fight her own flush at the brazenness of her words. Despite the sudden erectness of his back at the presence of these two visitors, he meets her eyes and they soften just a hair.

“Nice to meet you, too. I’m sure we will be in contact about your trust soon.”

She nods, ready to leave. But just as she pushes her chair away, the man Poe called Hugs walks past her to take one of the empty seats and he goes rigid.

The room that was already feeling stifling feels harsh and electric. And she sees Ben tense across the room, chest puffing out. His hands are white-knuckled against the armrest of the chair

The man pauses, his gaze flashing between Rey and Ben before a smirk tilts at his lips. And then he is stepping in front of Rey, eyes filled with sudden interest.

“My apologies, Ms. Rey was it? I shouldn’t have been so rude.”

And he sticks out a hand for her to shake. Not sure what else to do, and wanting to get out of there, Rey takes his hand. But he doesn’t shake it. Instead, he brings it up to his mouth, his nose barely touching the top of her hand. And he takes a quick breath before gently kissing her hand.

She jerks it back in surprise.

“What a beautiful name. Rey. I hope to see you around.”

And then he slips past her, leaving her staring at the space in front of her in shock. He slides into the empty seat, followed by his partner.

“Ignore him, Rey,” Poe says, walking over to steer her toward the door. Not even bothering to lower his voice he says, “He’s an ass.”

Rey nudges him in the ribs and he smirks at her. He opens the door, letting her slide through, “Lunch another time, then?”

“Of course,” She takes off, waving over her shoulder.

She is almost to the end of the hallway before she feels a tug on her elbow. She turns around, surprised to see Ben towering over her.

“This is going to sound strange, but please make sure you stay away from him.” He nods his head toward the conference room. And she doesn’t need to ask who he means.

“And here I thought you weren’t interested in me. Or in being my friend,” Rey snipes back, and her brain hisses at her. She meant to play it nice, casual. But she doesn’t know how to take him. One minute he is rejecting her offers for a date and the next he has his hand between her thighs and is telling her to stay away from another man.

His eyes bore into her, even as he takes another step closer. She cranes her neck to look up at him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…” And he gives out a frustrated sigh and tucks his hand into his hair, “Just he is bad news. I don’t want anyone to get hurt by him.”

His eyes are pleading, and it brings to mind when they were in the conference room minutes before when he was looking up at her with his hand on her knee.

“I plan on it,” She shrugs, adjusting her purse. And then leans up a little, a conspiratory smile on her lips. And she doesn’t know why she says it. Why she knows he won’t think her strange for the comment. Why she knows he will understand.

“He doesn’t smell so good, anyway.”

That stuns him long enough to let her slip out of his grip, waving at him over her shoulder as she rounds the corner.

———

She thought she was heading home. About halfway through her walk, she looks up to find her traitorous feet have taken her somewhere else. She cranes her neck to look up at the scrolling letters across the old building built of brick and stone. It stands out against all the skyscrapers reaching for the heavens. Even on a street filled with spicy and sweet food vendors, she can smell old parchment.

County Records.

She sighs as she ascends the stairs, reaching in her purse to pull out her copy of her trust. Poe slipped it into her bag on the way out, and she flips to the part where her aunt's name is highlighted. Before long she is standing at the front desk which is enclosed in glass and metal. The small group of people all look slightly dulled by the silence of the space. She gives them a small smile.

“Hi, I was hoping to find records relating to my aunt."

A young man comes over, giving her a bland look through the glass.

“Whats the name?”

Rey leans forward a bit, “Daphne R. Kenobi.”

There is the clicking of keys that fills the stale air, and Rey idly watches the dust glittering in a sliver of light pouring from the windows. Finally, the clicking stops, and the man looks up at her.

“We have two Daphne R. Kenobi’s in our records. Would you like both?”

She nods and watches as he scribbles a couple sets of codes on a piece of paper.

“Are you familiar with the organization codes for the records rooms?” He asks next, even though she knows he can tell she has no clue where to even start. But she smiles at him anyway.

“Sorry, I am not. This is my first time here.”

He nods and stands up. “Then I’ll show you around.”

He motions for her to follow him as he walks into the main room.

“The first series establishes the floor and unit the information is filed on. From there, the second series establishes the shelving row and finally which section of that shelving.”

She follows him to an elevator as he explains how to read the call numbers, and she nods. It sounds easy. Or so she thinks until the elevator doors open and deposits her on the aforementioned floor. Her eyes go wide at the span of shelving and walls that stretch far beyond the eye can see. Shelving towers over her, and she has to shuffle to keep up with her guide.

Despite the monstrosity of the space, her guide knows it well. He points out how the numbers and letters on the card he holds direct them toward some shelving off to their left. A few minutes later and he is pulling a box off the shelf that matches one of the call numbers.

“Please make sure you return the box as found. If you would like to make a copy for your own records, please use the copy machines located near the elevator. Is there anything else you might need?”

She wants to tell him to stay put because she isn’t sure she can find her way out of this maze. But she doesn’t want to be an imposition.

“I think I’m good. Thank you for your help.”

He gives her a quick smile and disappears, probably back to his station at the front desk.

With a glance to see if he is gone, she settles onto the floor, stretching out her legs and pulling the box toward her. With bated breath, she lifts the top, not sure what she will find.

It doesn’t take her long to realize this is not the right Daphne. With a grimace, she gently puts everything back as she found it and slides the box back onto the shelf.

She glances at the piece of paper, looking at the second call number on the note and looks at her current shelf number. Thankfully this record is not too far away. She doesn’t have to go search for another floor, only has to move over a few shelving units. Before long she is climbing a ladder to reach the next box, gently placing it on her hip as she descends. She has a seat on the floor and lifts the lid.

There isn’t much in the box. But the first file makes her heart skip a beat. The signature sigil of the local police spans the front cover, along with a crossed out confidential stamp across the top. On the flap of the folder is her aunt's name.

She flips it open, finds a picture of the woman she only glimpsed for two days before she was ripped for her life in a car accident. At least that is what the state employee told her when she found Rey living by herself for two days in her grandmother’s house, tears streaking down her face as she clung to an old stuffed rabbit. Apparently, that hadn’t been the entire truth.

Daphne was older, though her eyes shown with a youth belaying her greying locks. So much like her grandmother, Rey thinks and then flips past the picture to the police write up about her aunt’s accident. She skims, mouth falling open a little as the words float before her eyes.

They thought it had been foul play. Thought the car accident, which had caused her car to explode into an enraged inferno had been to cover up her murder. But they hadn’t been able to prove it.

There were hurried notes all over the records from a police officer scribbling his thoughts. But after three months the case had been dropped for lack of evidence. They went with the initial confirmation and called it an accident.

But as Rey flips through the images of the wreck, she knows it was anything but an accident. Tears prick against her eyes as she flips from one to the next. Her aunts long, beautiful body is scorched beyond recognition. Skin peels from bone and flesh are left behind like charcoal. But the parts that did not fully burn are caked in dirt and grime, and blood. As if she had been sliced multiple times. Half of her hair is missing, as well as some of her teeth. A few of her fingers are gone as well as if cut from her body.

As if tortured.

Rey has to slam the file closed as her stomach starts to churn and takes a series of deep breaths to steady her heart. She feels like vomiting and closes her eyes to let try and press down the urge. It takes minutes before she delves back into the box, ignoring the police file.

She recognizes one as her trust. There are a few notes on there as well, sees it is a copy with another confidential police stamp across the top. Motive, she thinks and then shuffles past it. The next bits are a couple of copies of things on properties her aunt owned. Most of them are out of state, dotting the country. She makes a small pile of them before the last piece catches her attention.

Its a transfer of deed for a building downtown. One of the old ones. But it's not what the document is that captures her attention. Its the address.

The same address she visited a few days ago with Rose.

The address of Supreme Beings.

Rey quickly grabs all the files and throws them into the box. She drags the entire thing over to the copiers and shuffles through her purse for money. Thankful she has enough change she starts making a copy of every single file, even the horrible pictures that she has to look away from.

And when she is done she puts all the originals back in the box and puts it back.

It's going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Heavens, this chapter nearly did me in (all 8k words of it). There are a couple of plot threads I'm trying to pull in without drowning the story and the romance (isn't that what we are all here for, anyway?) But here we are. What did you guys think of Rey and Ben's second meeting in the flesh? And what is going on with the random Aunt Daphne (I promise there is a purpose to her)? 
> 
> I always love hearing from you guys. Comments are always welcomed (I love reading your thoughts/predictions/guesses). So feel free to leave a note. But of course kudos and just the fact you took the time to read this mean so much to me! Thank you.
> 
> A couple of notes:  
> \- Kudos to those that correctly guessed the movie that inspired some of these chapters! Hopefully, you can already see some of the seeds from Inception starting to sprout in this chapter. <3  
> \- Poe calling Rey 'peanut'? Isn't that usually Finn that does that? I figured since they are all such close friends in this story that Poe (with his fondness for nicknames) would pick up the nickname for Rey.  
> \- Let me say I have no idea how county records are organized and even if they contain cold police cases. I also know next to nothing about law practices. So I apologize if I fudged any of those parts up for you.


	7. Black Tea and Ambrosia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cosmos is determined to bring them together. It is still fighting the good fight despite one of them ignoring all the signs. And the other is still clueless and going a bit mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for taking the time to write notes, leave kudos, bookmark, or for subscribing. I cherish them all! If only I could send kudos back to all of you! <3
> 
> We pick up with Ben's perspective just after Rey left his workplace the chapter before. The cosmos is still working to bring them together, though Ben is being difficult about it. (No surprise there.)

 

 

His fists clench and unclench as he watches her disappear around the corner of the office. He has to take a second to catch his breath, to inhale fresh air that contains a far more diluted version of her scent. Ever since she stepped into that conference room a mere thirty minutes before, he has been swimming in it. A cloying sweetness, it tugs at his nostrils and his sensitive nerves until his body is singing from her proximity. And her presence, while still so human, is intoxicating. Almost worse than it been last night when he dropped the wards and uncovered the truth.

 

At most he should get a pang of recognition from his own brain. He shouldn't smell her pheromones or sense her light or even hear her thoughts. All of those things should be tucked away under that netting of his own creation.

 

But they hadn’t been.

 

And he had drowned. Pulling his chair beside hers had been the first nail in his coffin. And when she asked him out for coffee, and he felt her intention, that had been the next nail. And so many nails followed: her interest flickering and pooling between her thighs, how she shifted in her chair, how her pupils dilated. And this was just from him, the man she briefly met at the coffee shop and her friend's law partner. Not because she knew angels and demons were naturally designed to fit together. She had leaned into his touch and sent all her delicious thoughts pouring into his mind, clueless he could hear them. He could feel her reaching and grabbing his hair and whispering into his ear. And how forward she had been. How open.

 

And he had caved like the disgusting creature he is. Demon. Darkness. Abomination. Felled by those eyes and smells and thoughts. He should be better than this. He has been trying so hard all these months to become a better man. To fight his instincts and desires to take and rage and destroy things. He has been doing so much better.

 

And he had promised himself he wouldn’t do a thing to compromise her. He wouldn’t seek her out. He wouldn’t cross her path. He would leave her to the human life her family intended, the safe peaceful human existence.

 

But she had walked into that conference room with Poe’s arm over her shoulder and beamed at him. And he recalled that light he saw radiating off her in that vision. And how the taste of it bit into his nostrils when she unleashed heaven on those five feet of crossroads. He hadn’t been strong enough.

 

And now Hux was aware of Rey. 

 

Ben closed his eyes and counted each of his breaths until his heart steadied. He needed to get it together so he could throw Hux off her scent. He didn't think his old buddy had clued into her being an angel. Probably only caught the scent of both of their arousals and put two and two together. Knew Ben had an interest in her. Which was just as bad.

 

And he needed to get this meeting over before her scent coupled with Hux’s presence in the conference room sent him into a spiraling rage. He had promised Poe he wouldn’t choke Hux while others watched and he intended to keep it.

 

“She’s an old friend,” Poe is saying as Ben enters and moves toward his chair. He adjusts his jacket before settling into the chair, contained rage boiling under his fingertips as Hux meets his eyes.

 

“We were talking about Poe’s friend, Rey. She seems like a sweet girl.”

 

The thing with Hux, he learned shortly after meeting him, is that the more you try and keep things from him, the more he presses. It's what makes him an excellent, ruthless lawyer. It also makes him a dangerous man, if not a little too arrogant and mad for his own good. But like any rabid cur with a bone to pick, once he is curious its best to give him bits of information that seemingly answer his question to satiate him while effectively throwing him off the scent. It takes a lot of thinking and planning to do that, a patience Ben can rarely muster, so he usually goes for the swifter method of choking the man.

 

Though it only serves to give Hux more fodder.

 

Its that cycle of rabid hatred and spite for each other that made working together impossible. Even though they managed without killing each other for a couple of years until it finally came to a head.

 

“And just a minute ago you were calling her charity work,” Ben comments blandly, leaning back in his seat to glare down his nose at his old co-worker.

 

“I’ll admit I was too quick to judge,” He says slyly, but doesn’t apologize for a second. “Poe here was telling me they were old friends. How do you know her?”

 

There is a light of curiosity burning in Hux’s eyes, a fire that knows something is happening between the two of them. Ben curses his horrible decision to get both of them all flustered in the middle of his workplace where anyone could have walked in.

 

“We only just met.”

 

Poe jumps in, not liking the concentration Hux has on his friend. And Ben is so thankful for the ire that coats Poe’s aura and his need to protect his friend because it pulls Hux’s intense concentration away.

 

“I am guessing this roundabout way of asking questions about Rey is because you are interested. Let me go ahead and say you are really not her type. So don’t bother.”

 

And before Hux can comment, Phasma cuts them all off. She has a patience that runs so deep you can't see the bottom. But that patience never extends to childish conflicts like this. She has let them have their time and now she is done waiting for them to grow up and mature.

 

“If I had known we were coming here to compare cock size I would have brought a ruler. But since I failed to have that foresight, why don’t we get down to actual business.”

 

Poe turns bright red at her audacity, and Ben feels the tip of his ears heat. Hux doesn’t even bother to look ashamed.

 

“Yes, lets. We have other places to be. Thank you for reminding me so eloquently, Phasma.”

 

“Anytime, Armitage.” She says blithely and starts organizing her papers. “Why don’t we start with the court-mandated records?”

 

And they fall into work, a chilled calm filling the atmosphere as they dig into the reason Hux & Assoc. made the trip all the way across the city. And while they manage to work together without Ben choking Hux, there is still the strained tension that flows between them. And it doesn’t help that Hux keeps sneaking curious and taunting smiles at Ben when no one else is looking. Knowing there is something more going on between Ben and Rey. And he is determined to find out what it is.

 

And destroy it.

 

Because that is what Hux does. And Ben is on his radar.

 

So when they finally finish, Ben still fighting off the whiffs of Rey’s scent in the conference room, he doesn’t immediately go home. Instead, he takes a right turn out of the office, hails a cab, and leaves for the art district. Its been far too long since he visited his old family friend, but he can’t think of another soul he would be willing to tell his story to. Or to ask for help.

 

Because he suspects that he hadn’t been the only demon to catch a whiff of Rey today, even if the other hadn’t figured it out. And if that is the case, something is seriously wrong with the wards.

 

The way her eyes glazed over and her tongue froze for that moment in the office when stupid Poe said her aunt’s name aloud; he knew he hadn’t been quick enough to get those wards up. Some seed in her mind had started to germinate and if he didn’t get her fixed soon there might not be much of Rey left.

 

Because germinating seeds that don’t get enough air or sunlight tend to fester.

 

——

 

Supreme Beings smells exactly like he remembers, though it has been some time since he crossed paths with Mazaline. Which is why, when the door chimes and her little brown eyes perk up from the counter, he isn’t surprised by the exasperated sigh that leaves her lips. Or the fact she jumps down from her little stool in a rush to greet him, hands outstretched as she expects him to bend down into her embrace. He obliges, not one to deny such an old friend. She crushes his cheeks between her wrinkled hands, eyes twinkling with mirth.

 

“I thought you’d stop by,” She says emphatically, eyes crinkling in happiness. She pats his cheeks, pecks his forehead and ducks away to shuffle back to the counter. “The usual, I assume?”

 

He grunts in agreement, sliding up to the counter and leaning over. Maz fills a cup with one of her famous concoctions, dumps a few sugar cubes and dab of honey in it, and then places it on the counter. He takes a sip, giving her a rare smile. It's been far too long since he has had a good cup of ambrosia. Maz slides back onto her seat, her own little glass of oolong tea steaming cheerily beside her as she watches him with narrowed eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised by the next words that come out of the witch’s mouth.

 

“So, how did you like the little gift I sent your way?”

 

He almost spits his mouthful of ambrosia across the counter but instead fights to choke it down as his cheeks heat. Maz cackles merrily as he coughs, eyes watering until he finally manages to choke it down.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Maz.”

 

“So I was right. She is your type.”

 

He doesn’t take the bait, though he can feel the tips of his ears and nose turning the slightest bit red. Which is enough to make that shit-eating grin on the old witches face double in size.

 

“You know well, in this day and age, any angel is any demon’s type. You put her in danger, Maz. Had it been anyone else she would be unconscious in some shipment container halfway to some foreign black market. And that would be the best case scenario.”

 

The grin falters on the witches face, though she reaches forward to pat his cheek gently. Her little eyes fill with understanding, “But it wasn’t anyone else, was it?”

 

“I could barely control myself, Maz. And had you done that even six months ago…”

 

“Isn’t it interesting that an angel would suddenly appear on my doorstep now, and not six months ago?”

 

“Maz, this isn’t a game. I had to put her wards back up. What if I hadn’t been able to do that? I even had to tap into some of my reserves.”

 

She snorts at that, taking a sip of her tea. Then she pulls out those odd little glasses of hers, places them on the tip of her nose, and reaches for one of her many decks of tarot cards. She starts shuffling.

 

“You are your parents' child, Ben Solo. You descend from a noble and powerful clan of demons. All of which are noted for their exceptional skills with force magic. I can’t imagine that uncle of yours wouldn’t have taught you a thing or two about wards. She was in good hands.”

 

He exhales, his dissolved anger leaving him slumped over the counter.

 

“You knew I was going to put the wards back up.”

 

A knowing smile tugs at her lips, “It was one of many possibilities.”

 

“Then why did you send her to me? Only to make me tear her brain apart and then put it back together?”

 

Maz smiles, reaches out a hand, and presses it to the center of his chest where that one little half of his heart beats gently.

 

“Have you looked at your soul lately, little demon?”

 

He rolls his eyes at her, gently takes her hand and pushes it away, “Why would I? I already know what is there.”

 

“Hmmm, of course, you do. Because you always know everything, don’t you Ben Solo?” It's a chastising nick at his pride and his mouth turns down.

 

“If you are just going to insult me, then I’ll just leave.”

 

“Go ahead,” Maz says, still shuffling cards. “The door is right over there.”

 

Their eyes lock, and he can see the stubborn set of her jaw. But he didn’t come here to fight, or to leave here in a storm of anger. So he submits to her glare. “Good. You are learning that throwing such little tantrums gets you nowhere. See how far you have come? Six months ago you would have stormed out of here after breaking at least three of my bell jars.”

 

He gives her a sheepish look and runs a hand through his hair, “I still owe you for those, don’t I?”

 

She shrugs, “Having you back in my shop, on the road to recovery is all the payment I need.”

 

He rolls his eyes at her sentiment but feels his heart warm a bit at her caring. The one person in this damned city that seemed to have her head on straight, that understood his past, and that was willing to reach out when he needed it most.

 

“Maz, why did you send her to me? Why put her in that danger? Why put me in that position?”

 

The witch, done shuffling, spreads the cards across the table in one practiced swoop. Her hands glide over them, ensuring each card pokes out from the spread. He lets his hand hover over the cards, seeking the one that calls to him. He's done this so many times he knows what to do without thinking. The question he wants to ask the cosmos is burning on his mind.

 

His heart slams into his chest as he draws The Devil card.

 

Next, she pushes the rest of the cards toward him. He mixes them up before putting them back into a stack and sliding them to Maz. She takes it, placing The Devil card in the center of the table. She draws two more cards from the top of the deck. The first drawn card, The Two of Cups, goes into the second position on the spread, followed by the third card, The Knight of Wands.

 

Maz stops drawing then, putting the deck off to the side and lets her eyes scan the spread.

 

“You are standing in your own way,” She says, pointing to The Devil Card. It's no surprise. That card always turns up in his readings, glaring balefully up at him. Why should he assume it would stop now? “You need to reconcile with yourself, and face the obstacles that are blocking you from your desired path.”

 

But the next card, he has never drawn in one of his readings. And it is this one that draws a smile across Maz’s face. His heart momentarily stills.

 

“The Two of Cups. What an interesting pull,” Maz remarks, “The card of intimacy.” She winks at him, before moving to the next card. She doesn’t need to elaborate on what she is insinuating with the appearance of that card.

 

He is also very familiar with the last card. He has only drawn it once before. Seconds after his life had promptly fallen into a blazing inferno of a nightmare. It's the same spread he had months ago if you substituted the Two of Cups for the Moon. And even though his fate has changed - the cosmos isn't screaming enemies, danger, doubt and failure like it did last time - he still feels the bite of panic. His breathing speeds up. And Maz reaches out a hand to place on his, giving it a squeeze.

 

“Your life is about to get turned upside down, again. The force isn’t done with you. But if we put all these pieces together, I think you have an answer to your question.”

 

He inhales sharply, understanding her meaning. He can look at the cards and see what the cosmos is trying to tell him, even though he wants to deny it. He can’t follow this path. It would be death for all involved.

 

“Maz, you know this can’t happen.”

 

She reaches out, grasps his face and makes him look into her eyes.

 

“If this is what the force wills, then who are you to deny it? You surely have seen what happens when one ignores the force - when one fights it.”

 

And he knows what she means. Knows of whom she speaks.

 

“You should go see him. You are thinking about it. Perhaps it is time.”

 

He sighs and pushes back from the table. He finishes the cup of ambrosia and pulls a ten from his pocket to put on the counter. She shoes it away, not letting him pay.

 

“Thank you, Maz. I should have come sooner. I am sorry for, well, everything.”

 

“I know, dear boy. Don’t be a stranger anymore, you hear?” She presses a quick peck to his forehead, and waves as he shuffles out the door.

 

He hadn’t thought to look before swinging the door open. Though Maz is a well-known witch around these parts, most of her regular clientele tended to use the back entrance. So when he makes the step into the alcove that leads to the street, he is surprised when someone bumps into his chest.

 

He instantly reaches out his hands to steady them, eyes going wide when they meet familiar hazel ones. His fingers curl into her shoulder.

 

“Oh, sorry -“

 

Their eyes lock and for a moment longer than necessary they both stand there. His hands are still on her shoulders, and one of her hands half on his chest where she caught herself. She takes a step back, cheeks coloring and she takes a second to straighten herself, eyes shifting in embarrassment while his hands fall to his side. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

 

“Not who I expected to run into here,” Ben breaks the silence reigning over the space, snapping her eyes back to him.

 

She colors a little more, eyes drifting to the warded door behind him and then back to his gaze.

 

“You were just coming from Maz’s shop?” Rey asks, her mouth half open as if she can’t believe he associates with such a shop. A small smile tugs at his lips even as he shrugs. Of course, she wouldn’t. They just met; once in a coffee shop and the next in his law office. Who imagines a lawyer going to a magic shop?

 

“I’ve known Maz for a long time. Old family friend. Just popped in for a visit.”

 

The answer makes her jaw slam shut and she is quick to regain her footing. A little mischievous glint fills her eyes, “So you’re not here for a good luck potion to help with your cases?”

 

He lets out a deep laugh at that thought. Wouldn’t it make life easier if such things existed? It takes her by surprise, and he can’t help but place a hand on her hair as if she was a little girl and leans down a little. Her nose scrunches at his actions, which makes his smile grow wider. “When Maz starts carrying luck potions, let me know. I sure could use one now.”

 

She shuffles from under his grasp, making him tuck his hand back in his pocket with a smug grin. Her cheeks are still colored, and he imagines its from a mixture of annoyance with him teasing her and her own desires. Because he can smell her scent spiking in his presence. Wafting around with an air of sparkling excitement. If a scent could purr…

 

“I bet. That Hux guy seems like a real pain.”

 

“That's putting it mildly.”

 

She humphs at that and shuffles on her feet. She wants to ask him something, but she is questioning herself. Finally, she takes a deep breath.

 

“So your family knows Maz?”

 

It's not the question he was expecting, and his brow knits. How was he supposed to answer that question without causing some problems?

 

“Yeah, before she moved here she had a small shop in my hometown. My mom often bought her teas. If you haven’t tried one, you should. My favorite is the ambrosia, but something tells me you're not much of a sweets kind of girl. I hear her black tea is excellent, though.”

 

“Oh, I think I will. I just - I know it's an odd question to ask. I was just looking into my Aunt, the one listed as my trustee.”

 

He has to fight the spike of fear that tears up his spine at this admittance. And he watches in horror as she unfolds some papers in her bag and hands him one.

 

“Turns out she once owned the deed to this shop and passed it down to Maz. I thought I’d see if Maz knew anything about her.”

 

And he can see the gears turning in her head, the blooming of a seed that he hadn't been able to uproot in time. Sees the spiraling of a mind that clings so fiercely to a string that is unraveling. He takes the piece of offered paper, and sure enough, there is her aunt's signature. And he knows Maz will have answers. Knows it because of the last name scribbled on the signature. Kenobi. Of course, Maz would know her aunt, just like she knows his mother and father and all the others invested in the rebel alliance years ago.

 

“After our meeting, I couldn’t stop thinking about my aunt. So I went down to county records,” There is a pause as she reaches for her bag and then pauses, floundering over if she should divulge more. And he has a feeling she found something more important than this little slip of paper, something she is afraid to share. 

 

What did she find? He can tell it is something jarring by the way she is biting her lip. And it's something that could potentially be dangerous for her, he can tell. And he thinks she is going to put everything away and tell him it's okay and just leave. But something flits across her face and makes him realize she is going to tell him. She trusts him for that.

 

And of course, she does. He planted that trust in her head just like the other seed that is sprouting in her mind now. His heart drops. He hadn’t earned this openness. 

 

“You probably don’t want to know this,” She starts, “But I found something else in her records. She pulls out what she was going for earlier. It's a bunch of papers all stapled together, but he recognizes the confidential stamp. Knows he is about to look at a police report.

 

He didn’t know Daphne Kenobi. Only knew the last name. It was one of the older and more prominent lines of force users, ones that had sided with his family in the wars between force users. Though their numbers had dwindled when his namesake became the last of the bloodline. But Ben Kenobi had a few kids before passing away in the heat of battle. Rey’s father was one of them, an old rebel that had been good friends with his father. A man whose name had been wiped from the docket in both the mortal and magic realities after he went undercover for the resistance years ago. Ben knew there was another child out there somewhere, but he had never heard of a girl. Rey shouldn’t have an aunt. 

 

But the minute he flips through the files and sees her desecrated in the middle of the carnage that was her accident, and his eyes fall to the little symbol on her wrist he knows why he didn’t know of Daphne’s existence.

 

Kenobi had an angel daughter no one knew about.

 

He tries to swallow the bile that rises in his throat at the scene of her death. Gently he closes the pages and hands them back to Rey, brain screaming.

 

This isn’t good. Not good.

 

“She was murdered?” He manages to croak out because he needs to play this part. At least until he can figure out how to stop this mess he has made of her brain. Because if she continues on this track he knows exactly where she is going to end up. There is only one place all these little strings will lead her.

 

“It appears so. I don’t know much more than what's in those papers. But I thought Maz could possibly help.”

 

And she shuffles her feet again, hesitant eyes glancing at the door. 

 

He watches her for a second, sees the little spindles of fear that are waving around her body. She’s afraid of what this shop is. Magic. Afraid to enter on her own.

 

And he knows he is an idiot for even offering. He needs to get as far from her as possible. Knows Maz can handle her well enough and he wouldn’t have to worry about her making things worse.

 

But he can smell her discomfort. Her fear.

 

And he can’t say no. His chest tightens, and he feels that little tug from the other day during the deal. And he knows. Knows there is no fighting this bed of his own making.

 

“Do you want me to go in with you? I know her shop can be intimidating.”

 

She glances up at him, a wide smile beaming across her face.

 

“I hate to waste your time,” She’s giving him an out. But he doesn’t take it.

 

He doesn’t say a word, just walks back to the door and holds it open for her. Eyebrows raised expectantly at her. She smiles broadly, stepping through the door with a nod as a thank you.

 

Maz hadn’t even bothered to put up his cup, he realizes as they slip into the shop. She already has one out for Rey, a little plume of smoke wafting from the top. She smiles brightly at them, motioning for them to have a seat. She gives Ben a wink over Rey’s head when she isn’t looking.

 

He takes a seat at one of the stools, taking a sip of his new helping of ambrosia while Rey shuffles onto the stool and hands Maz the paperwork she just showed him.

 

“Hey, I was here just the other day…”

 

“Of course, child. I remember you, Rey. I gave you the materials to summon a demon.”

 

Rey perks up a little at that, nodding, “I didn’t go through with it, though.”

 

Maz nods and pushes the steaming cup of tea toward her. Rey glances down.

 

“It has been a rough couple of days. Why don’t you have some tea? And I’ll go ahead and take a look at that piece of paper you brought me.”

 

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

 

Maz pins her with a look, “I’d do anything for a Kenobi, Rey.”

 

That makes Rey freeze, her eyes going wide.

 

“You knew.”

 

“I had some suspicions, but this -“ she taps at the deed, “Solidified them. Your Aunt Daphne, huh? Talk about a spitfire. I sure do miss her.”

 

“How did you know her?”

 

Maz shuffles onto her chair and brings her cup to her lips. She gives Rey an assessing look before speaking.

 

“We worked together on a few community outreach programs. She was quite the activist. When she moved here to be closer to her family, she offered to help me expand. So I moved into the store a few years before her unfortunate death.”

 

“Oh, did you know my parents, then?”

 

Maz shakes her head, “No. I knew of them. Daphne always spoke of them with such reverence.”

 

“And my grandmother?”

 

At that a sweet smile twists on Maz’s face, “We were old friends. Went through a lot together. Lovely woman.”

 

Then Maz turns to her and cups her hands, “But that is all I can tell you, little one. I lost contact with them a few months after moving into the area. Next thing I know your grandmother had passed and your aunt was in an accident. I didn’t even know there was a little Kenobi in the world.”

 

Tears start to prick at Rey’s eyes, and Ben has to force his hand to not rest on her back. To not gently rub calming circles.

 

“But darling, if there is one thing I know about that family, they would have loved you beyond measure.”

 

And then Rey finds herself enveloped in a small, awkward hug from Maz and a warmth spreads through her heart.

 

Despite the fact she is sitting in the middle of a witch’s shop surrounded by questionable things, she hasn’t felt this belonging in such a long time.

 

“Drink that tea, little one. It’ll make you feel better. And then Ben here can walk you home. Make sure you get there safely. Isn’t that right, Ben?”

 

His head snaps up at this name, and he knows panic is blooming in them. And Rey goes to protest, but Maz manages to pin both of them with the most frightening glare that has them both agreeing. Rey sips on the tea, finding the bitterness much to her liking.

 

“It's really good. Ben is right.”

 

Maz pats Ben’s hand as she takes his glass away. “Of course he is. He knows what he’s about.”

 

Rey laughs at that, and Ben blushes at the attention. A few minutes later and Rey is all done with her tea, and is getting off the stool. Ben gets up and helps her down, placing a hand on her back. He wants to pull it back - to show he isn’t interested because he knows he is giving every sign he is. And he can’t have her thinking he is. Can’t have her showing up in his life, though fate seems determined to see she does.

 

“Ben, a moment?” Maz calls, and Rey pauses at the door. He motions for her to go through and then turns to Maz once the girl is out of earshot.

 

“You need to fix this, now. Before it gets out of hand Ben Solo.”

 

“I know, Maz. I thought it would be fine.”

 

“You were wrong. A weed once planted is a weed that can’t be tilled from the earth. Not one built in the mind. And which would be worse? A human girl with a broken mind, or an angel fighting for its life?”

 

“You know which one would be worse, Maz.”

 

Maz humphs at him and then casts a look at the girl through the door.

 

“She is stronger than you think, Ben Solo. And so are you.”

 

Then she points her little finger into his chest.

 

“Fix it. Either undo the wards and tell her everything or find someone that can make her better.”

 

He sighs because he knows he can’t do the first option. Which means there is only one thing for him to do.

 

He runs a hand through his hair and groans. He is not going to like this.

 

“Thanks for everything, Maz.”

 

“I mean it, Ben. There are things worse than death.”

 

“Yes, there are.”

 

He leaves with a wave and dips his head under the molding and smiles when he sees Rey waiting for him at the corner. She’s leaning against the wall, a far-off look to her face. When he calls her name she snaps back to reality and gives him a sheepish grin.

 

“You don’t have to walk me home. I’m a big girl.” She says it with a bit of a laugh as if Maz’s entreaty had insulted her independence.

 

“I would never assume you couldn’t. But for my sake, you think you could humor me?”

 

Rey blushes a bit at that, shuffling her bag and looking up at him with large eyes. He catches another whiff of her scent, now interlaced with that horrible tea that makes his nose wrinkle. But he can smell her sweetness cutting through. It calms him.

 

“You afraid Maz will find out you didn’t walk me home?”

 

“If there is one thing you need to know about Maz, it's that she always knows everything. Even if she really doesn’t.”

 

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Rey snarks, wrinkling her nose.

 

He shrugs, “It does if you spend enough time around her.”

 

A large grin spreads across his face and Rey starts walking, tossing a quick look over her shoulder to see if he is going to follow. He easily falls in step with her, hands still in his pockets. He has to tilt his head down a little to meet her eyes, but it feels comfortable. As if they have been doing this for years.

 

And it slams into him, hard, that he has only ever imagined something like this in his wildest dreams. Walking a girl he really liked home. Someone he could truly be with, a possibility of a future. An angel that keeps being put in his path. How many times has he watched other couples able to wonder the streets like this?

 

And they aren’t a couple. Nowhere near it. He had seen to it that that possibility was squashed the moment he reset her wards. And even if he hadn’t, that didn’t mean she was meant to be his match. It was impossible for such a thing to be a reality, but even as he is walking along by her side he can’t help but wish it could have been. Maybe in another lifetime - another universe.

 

But not this one.

 

“So, where are we headed? Do we need to get a cab?”

 

“I’m not too far from here,” She says casually as they cross the street and start off down a couple of alleys he isn’t too familiar with. He knows the area a little. Not much happens around here. Its old city suburbia, with rows of beautiful old brick split-levels that reach for miles and all with small gardens hidden behind iron fences. Good places for keeping some of the nastier Fae at bay, but entreaties to the lesser pixies and nixies that will often ward a house as rent for living in the garden. A place of old wealth and forgotten magics. It's got an earthy scent to it - clean and alive. He can smell the trees and bushes from a few parks that dot the area, along with the hints of hole-in-the-wall food joints and laid back taverns. It's a place for families and professionals.

 

Not a place for a single young woman.

 

“And here I would have thought you’d have a place downtown,” Ben offers, stepping out of the way of a woman that refuses to give space on the sidewalk. He shoots her a glare, surprised someone didn’t move out of his way. Rey chuckles at that.

 

“One of the reasons I want to sell the place. Everyone I know lives downtown. My work is, too. So its bit of an inconvenience to live all the way out here. But it has its perks.”

 

Suddenly her stomach rumbles, and that makes his eyebrows shoot up to his forehead.

 

She blanches a bit, but doesn’t apologize, “I guess I didn’t eat lunch, now that I think about it.”

 

And he realizes that they were supposed to eat in the office earlier, but Hux and Phasma had interrupted. She must have gone straight to the records building and then to Maz’s without grabbing a bite. No wonder her stomach is grumbling. And he knows he shouldn’t do what he is thinking. He needs to put distance between them.

 

Especially after he is sure Hux caught onto something earlier today.

 

But he can feel his chest tightening at the thought of her being hungry. At his need to ensure she is safe and taken care of. And he knows this compulsion, this need is brimming from what he just discovered the day before - his alpha designation. And it's not just that she is an angel and he a demon, but also their position within that dynamic. He has alpha control, which is no surprise. He easily overpowers most demons, save those older and more advanced than him. His desire to control things often overwhelms his personality. Has become so entrenched in it that it had nearly destroyed him to reign it in months ago. To still keep it reigned in.

 

But her nature is so different. She nurtures. He can see it in the way she talks to him, or her brief interactions with others. Even though she is headstrong and stubborn, not willing to back down on the things she wants, she isn’t willing to compromise others feelings for her own. She wants to care for others. Ensure they are well and good. Even to a point of a ferocity that almost makes his demon-self balk. He sees that need seeping through her pores in the way she desperately seeks her family, desires belonging. 

 

And he isn’t ignorant of the way that nature blends with his. How it dilutes his own. 

 

And it's the alpha in him, the one that wants to control and take that is still so unbalanced that overrides his thoughts. Because even as she calms him, she also ignites him. And there is so little of her angel leaking from the wards that the fire is more aggressive than the calm.

 

He could have this. Just this one little moment until he gets her fixed. And then they can finish her trust and depart.

 

So he tells himself.

 

They are already attached until she makes it home. 

 

“What do you want to eat?”

 

She pauses then, turning on her heel and throwing her hands over her chest. They are standing in the middle of a very busy street, just at the crosswalk. But she doesn’t seem to care. 

 

“Are you asking as a friend?”

 

His conversation with her earlier that day, after she threw him for a loop while asking him for coffee floods his mind.

 

“I already told you we can’t be friends, Rey.”

 

“Right, when you turned down my offer for coffee.”

 

And then she crosses the distance between them and pokes him with a finger. And it reminds him of the night before when she demanded they finish the deal. He knows he is just staring down at her with awe in his eyes, not sure what else to do.

 

“And then,” and he flushes before she even gets the words out because he knows what she is going to say in the middle of this pedestrian crowd waiting to cross the street, “You said we couldn’t be friends or anything more than that, but you slid your hand between my thighs and stroked me.”

 

He hears a few hisses from the crowd around him and a few chitters. Now there is a whole gaggle of humans glaring at him, and he is fairly sure one of the women is pulling a bottle of mace out of her bag.

 

He wants to grab Rey and tell her that's not how it was, but his words freeze on his tongue. Because when he thinks about it, that's really how it was. He can sugar coat it and look at it through his perspective - the one where he understands these dynamics between them, where he knows how scent and smells and arousal between their kind can easily get confusing and intense. How sometimes between their kinds there are words they speak and then there are the words their smells tell. But how can he tell her that? 

 

That he doesn’t see it as a quick moment of lust? And he knows she doesn’t either, but that she is confused about why she doesn’t feel it's like that when she should.

 

Her anger is more at what her brain is trying to grapple with while her heart and body are telling her another.

 

Not so much unlike him, except he at least knows the world he is born to exist in. She has no clue.

 

He knows he should say something. And it's not just the horrible looks the crowd is shooting at him, even as the crosswalk opens and they move along. As people shuffle past with whispers. And Rey is standing there, finger pressing between his biceps with fire in her eyes and vengeance on her tongue. She looks so resplendent like this. Avenging little angel, he thinks. And wonders how beautiful she would be if those wards were off her and her light would shine through. All that power coursing through her veins.

 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” He mumbles, glancing off to the side to avoid her gaze. “I am sorry. I do like you, Rey. Which is why we can’t be friends.”

 

“So, usually when you like someone like that, then you go out on a date. Or at least don’t turn them down for coffee."

 

He grumbles then, and can’t hold back the grumble in his voice, “I know how dating works, Rey.”

 

She huffs at that, “Really? Well, you sure are doing a poor job of showing it. So if we can’t be friends because you like me then why do you keep turning me down?”

 

He sucks in a lungful of air, pressing his hands to his temple.

 

“Because as much as I like you, Rey. I’m not in a place where I can start something new. I’m still trying to get some of my life in order and I’m not in a place where I can give you what you need.”

 

Her lips twitch, and she looks him over. It feels like an eternity while she stands there, appraising and considering him. Once or twice her mouth opens to ask a question and then slams shut. Eventually, she shrugs and sighs.

 

“Well, that's a better answer than what you gave me before. That I can understand.”

 

And she takes a step back, her warm smile back on her face. She holds out a hand in offering.

 

“So, not friend that is still trying to get his shit together, I feel like eating some Thai food. Are you going to join me at that shop over there? They have excellent Gaeng Daeng.”

 

He smirks at that and takes her offered hand, stumbling a bit as she tugs him across the crosswalk and toward the store.

 

“I have no clue what Gang Daeng is, but if their Pad-Thai is good I’ll be fine.”

 

She laughs and then glares back at him, “Ugh, Pad-Thai. Far too sweet.”

 

And his chest constricts at her words and at the little zings flying through is hand to his heart.

 

She’s right. They have excellent food. He can tell the minute they step into the shop by the crispness of the vegetables and fish stew he can smell lingering in the air. It's a small take-out center, with just a couple of tables littering the sidewalk outside. Rey quickly makes her order, not even looking up at that large menu with pictures hanging above the counter. A number three, she chitters at the cashier and throws in a water. She starts to reach for her purse, but he steps up behind her and puts a hand over hers to stop her. 

 

His back presses into hers, and she gives a little squeak that he ignores. He doesn’t even bother to look at the cashier that is giving them both an odd look and holding back a snipe of ‘get a room’, while he contemplates the menu. He settles on a coconut chicken soup and a glass of water.

 

Rey gripes as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket not able to move much with him pressing her gently between his chest and the counter. He lifts his hand from hers to pull out a twenty and hands it over. Once its paid for, and he gets his change, he finally pulls away.

 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

 

And he knows she is not only talking about paying for her dinner.

 

“You are a bit of an ass, aren’t you?” Rey grumbles, and he can’t tell if she means it affectionately or is simply stating a truth. He remembers her calling him such a thing the night before, and wonders if perhaps its a projection of her repressed memories rising to the surface.

 

“I am. It makes my line of work a lot easier.”

 

She shrugs at that, idly watching the kitchen as they wait against the wall. He has put a little space between them, trying his best to keep some kind of reign on his body. Trying to stop sending her such mixed signals and failing miserably. And this tiny little takeout center with its hot ovens and lack of airflow have her scent wafting around him in thick waves. He wants nothing more than to cross the distance between them, let her lean her back shoulder against him while they wait on the wall. It takes a great deal of control to keep from reaching out.

 

“Hmm, hadn’t thought about that. I suppose if I worked with Poe or the other two lawyers all the time, I’d be a bit of an ass, too.”

 

He laughs at that, hearty and deep and she gives him a quizzical look.

 

“You have no clue how right about that you are.”

 

“Sometimes it’s okay, though.” Rey says, and they both jump when their numbers are called. Ben reaches for both of the bags before Rey can get them, and she grabs the drinks before he can shuffle everything so he can get them too. She gives him a smug grin.

 

They take one of the tables outside, filling up the little space with their plastic containers and drinks. It makes Ben feel like he is sitting in a doll set, and even Rey has to stretch out her long legs to be more comfortable. But the air has a nice chill to it that isn’t too cold and the wind is blowing just enough they are both flushed. And as they tear into the food, Rey ripping apart her container and delving in like she hasn’t had food in weeks with a glare of defiance at him - daring him to comment on her atrocious eating habits - a warmth settles into his chest that he hasn’t felt in ages.

 

He could get used to this.

 

“So, if I am such an ass, why do seem intent on getting food with me?” He says once Rey comes up for air. She quickly swipes her napkin across her face and drops her fork.

 

“I get the impression that you are a bit of a softy underneath all those intense glares.”

 

And he has never heard anyone say that to his face. Not a single person, except his close family members. And they call him conflicted instead of soft. 

 

He pauses then, “You really shouldn’t think about me that way, Rey. I’ll just disappoint you.”

 

And then she does something else to surprise him. She leans over all the food and cartons and gently touches his cheek. Cups it in fact, and turns his gaze toward hers.

 

“The least you could do is give me the chance to find out.”

 

And then she plops right back down in her chair and goes back to inhaling that horrible smelling food.

 

They don’t talk much after that. He doesn’t know what to say that won’t deepen the grave he is digging. And Rey seems content to hum contentedly, obviously having said all she needed to say to him for the evening. 

 

And as he finishes walking her home, hands pressed deep into his pockets, the silence isn’t as deafening as he imagined it would be.

 

They stop on the sidewalk over her house, or more he stops a few feet from her gate. She doesn’t miss a beat, and he wonders if he had continued on would she have let him inside. Perhaps up to her room? And he tries really hard to step on those thoughts before they can take root.

 

She leans against the gate to her house, a smile still on her lips. And his eyes fall to them, wondering if they would taste like that bitter curry she drank down minutes ago. Or would she be sweet like he imagines? Vanilla and honey? But his eyes snap back up to her when she clears her throat and steps away from the gate. She slides it open and slips inside. The latch snaps closed and then she is leaning her torso over the gate with an amused smile.

 

“I suppose this is goodbye.” She states, doesn’t question.

 

“I’m sure I’ll be in touch about your trust, soon.”

 

She nods at that, smile faltering a bit. He can feel the drop in her scent like lead hitting the bottom of a tub. Disappointment. She turns away then, clomping up her stoop which he notices is falling apart. Bits of mortar are missing and some bricks have wiggled loose. Gods the whole damn house looks like it's about to cave in on itself.

 

And he should feel happy about her leaving him. He wants her to pull away. Can’t have her around. But his mind and heart, he is learning, don’t always mesh.

 

“Rey,” She pauses at the door, turning to look at him, “If you need anything. I mean anything, find me, okay?”

 

She nods, something flutters across her eyes, and then she disappears into her house with the door shutting behind her with a protesting moan.

 

He stands there for far too long, eyes locked on the door before he talks his feet into walking.

 

He’s about halfway home, deciding to walk to clear his head instead of getting in a horrible smelling cab when he musters the courage to pull out his phone and make the call he has been dreading since he left Rey’s. But he knows it's the only viable option. This is something he needs to face, and at least he has a good excuse to call them. He can hide behind his need to protect this young woman, use it to fuel him, while his heart pounds against his chest and rails against their disappointment in their voices.

 

It's a time that has long since needed to happen. A wrong he needs to right. He has done so well cleaning up other aspects of his life, and this is one of the last bits he hasn’t tackled.

 

And though Rey will be an excuse to make that first step, he knows well it won’t clear it all the way. He isn’t ready to face the road that is his absolution with his family yet.

 

But he can swallow his humiliation enough to save one angel.

 

He shuffles along anxiously as the phone dials, stuck between hoping no one picks up and hoping they do. Then the line clicks, and he hears that voice he hasn’t heard in years. It nearly sends him to his knees.

 

“Hello, kiddo. Been a while.”

 

Of course, it would be his damn dad that answered the phone.

 

“Hey, Dad.” He mumbles, barely mustering his voice.

 

Han sounds like he is holding back a snark, and his voice comes out a little between a laugh and a somber voice, “ It's so good to hear your voice.”

 

“You sound like Mom,” Ben grumbles, and Han does give a weak little laugh at that.

 

“Yeah, well, someone has to. It's a good thing I’m the one that picked up the phone.”

 

Ben stops walking, finding a nice telephone pole to lean against so he can stare up into the sky. Not that he can see any stars here in the city, but it gives him an anchor anyway.

 

“So it's going to be that bad?”

 

“Understatement of the year, kid. But don’t tell her I warned you. She thinks she’s going to be all lovey-dovey and sympathetic, and maybe she will be for a minute. But you know that temper of hers…”

 

“Its okay, Dad, I deserve it. Whatever she tosses at me, I deserve it.”

 

The line falls silent for a long time, and he can hear his father breathing on the other end.

 

“Then just come home, Ben.”

 

He sighs, heavily, “I don’t think I’m ready. To face the past. And it's not really why I called…”

 

His father is suddenly dropping his calm voice, concern seeking in, “Okay, Ben. What's going on? You safe? We can be there in-”

 

“No, it's not like that. I…” he peers around the area, reaches out with the force to see if anyone is listening. They aren’t. “I found an angel, dad. One that doesn’t know what she is and she needs help.”

 

There is a hiss, and then Han is all over the phone, “Your angel? Did you bond with her?” And his voice is a mix of excited thrilled awe and fright.

 

“Not mine. Just, it's an odd situation. She was warded. Thinks she is human. But I had to pull the wards down and I didn’t know what she was…”

 

It all starts spilling out, and it feels good to tell someone all this. He has been keeping it in all day and he hadn’t realized how much it was eating away at him.

 

“And then I put the wards back. And now she isn’t okay. She is spiraling and I think if she stays this way she is going to go mad. But I can’t take her wards off because. Shit, Dad, Snoke can’t find her. He can’t.”

 

Han is making soothing okays and it will be fine on the other end of the line, “Gods, son. You really stepped in it this time.”

 

Ben rolls his eyes, “At least I am trying to do the right thing this time round.”

 

He can feel his father’s smile across the receiver, “And doesn’t that make all the difference?”

 

“Dad…”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one to help with all this. Your Mom or your Uncle know a lot more about demon wards. So you need to come for a visit. I’ll fill them in. But, Ben, from the perspective of an angel, let me ask you this: do you think it is important to keep her hidden?”

 

“Its different, Dad, then what happened to you. She has a chance to not get hurt.”

 

Han laughs a bit, “And you think if I had that choice, that is what I would have chosen? If I hadn’t fought, then I would have never met your mother. She would have never rescued me from Jabba. And you wouldn’t be here.”

 

“Are you sure you want to offer me up as a reason for living? I’m not exactly a child to be proud of.”

 

There is a gruff grunt, “Kid, you’ve done things that make my toes curl. But you are still my kid. I still love you. And I am proud of you right now. You know we are always here for you.”

 

Ben fights at the tears pricking in his eyes, fights the desire to wipe them away. He knows his voice sounds choked across the line.

 

“I’ll be there tomorrow. First flight out.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always love to hear from you guys so please don't be afraid to drop me a note. I really love reading your predictions, inferences, or even your perspectives on any aspect of the story. But, even if you can't think of a thing to say, let me just thank you for reading. 
> 
> A couple of notes about the chapter:  
> \- For the tarot reading I watched some youtube videos and looked up some examples that seemed like they would fit (because I had no clue how to even start). If you are interested in reading more about the particular reading Ben received you can find it here: [Looking for Love: Sample Tarot Reading](http://easy-tarot.net/meaning_sample.php?spread_id=189).  
> \- Rey is starting to show signs that something did not work properly when Kylo put the wards on Rey (as some of you got a few chapters back, my inspirations from the movie Inception are starting to show)  
> \- Some hints about the A/B/O dynamics were dropped; curious to see what you guys are thinking in terms of those hints  
> \- We get a little more confirmation that marshmallow Ben has not always been such a marshmallow puff  
> \- With Ben headed off to see his family and Rey spiraling in her research about her own past we will start to learn a bit more about what happened in the past to make it such a horrible world for angels and how Ben and Rey fit into it


	8. Disguises and Facing Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willing or unwilling, it is time to leave the city to face some truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All you lovelies, please know that your comments, kudos, and bookmarks mean the world to me! Thank you so much supporting and following this story! ❤️
> 
> The time has come to introduce the Solo family and for Rey to leave the city. So this time around we will switch between Ben and Rey's POVs throughout the chapter since these scenes are happening at the same time. I apologize for any whiplash incurred from the POV changes.

 

Sunlight bleeds through the moth-hole riddled curtains of her living room, causing her eyes to flutter. As she lifts her head off the coffee table a couple of papers come with her, plastered to the dried sweat on her cheeks. She wipes them away and cringes at the dried tears and drool staining her skin.

The night returns to her in a frenetic stream of disconnected images. It starts with Ben standing on the sidewalk outside her house looking torn as she says goodbye. And then she is closing the door, flinging her bag onto the coffee table. From there everything melds together. She has spent all her waking moments since pouring over her Aunt's records. Including the parts that make her choke back bile.

At some point, she downed a couple of beers until she felt tipsy enough to look at her Aunt's wreck photographs. Her eyes travel every inch of them, noting the burns and cuts.

_How many digits are missing? Why do the scorch marks mar certain parts of Daphne’s body and leave others untouched?_ She even spends time googling images of car crash victims to compare differences. She notes all of it, aggressively penning away in a half-used notebook.

In the honesty of dawn’s light, it comes to her that this behavior is concerning. She has never been able to let go of her parents. The all-consuming need to know what happened years ago is a familiar weight. But this is more obsessive than it has been in the past.

When she wakes for the third time, her face caked in drool and spilled coffee, she brushes her hair back and takes a deep breath. It is a little past twelve and the beams of sunlight have shifted so they are no longer in her eyes.

She pulls herself off the floor, wincing at a twinge in her neck.

_That's going to cramp. I shouldn't have fallen asleep on the coffee table._

Deciding she needs to clear her head, she heads for the kitchen. She splashes her face with cold water from the sink, rubbing to get off some of the grime. Feeling a little better, she grabs a container of iced coffee from the fridge and pours a glass.

And then she heads back to the living room to pick up where she left off.

The same picture keeps drawing her attention. It's the first one she pulled from the police documents and one of the few that show the entirety of Daphne's body. Her eyes fall to her Aunt's exposed wrist. Something about the tattoo there sparks her intuition - as if it is whispering to something deep inside her. _See me. Know me. Understand me._ But she has been at this for hours, tugging at that thread in hopes it will unravel some memory.

It doesn't. The memory attached to the other end remains elusive.

_I know I've seen that somewhere before._

With a frustrated sigh, she puts the picture off to the side. Next, she grabs one of the officer communication logs and ruminates over the list of names. She has combed through it all at least four times. These are all people with ties to her aunt or witnesses to her accident. Times and dates of their interviews with the cops, followed by cross-references to transcript copies, are all noted; so are phone numbers and addresses.

She runs her hand over the paper feeling a little tingle in her fingertips. There is something significant on this page, she knows it. Recognizes the feeling in her gut.

Her eyes fall on one name in particular.

_Alexander Snoke._ She says to the empty living room. With a sigh she leans back against the recliner behind her, looking to the ceiling as she ponders her next course of action.

Should she try and meet with this Alexander Snoke? The notes don’t say much about him. Two officers questioned him briefly at his place of work the day after her Aunt’s death. But nothing came out in the meeting. She has already checked the records.

But her intuition has always been spot on, and she isn’t going to start ignoring it now. With renewed energy, she jots down the address and phone number on the document.

She is about to get up and search for her phone when she hears a knock at the door.

Rey pauses, frantic. If anyone sees the state of her living room they will think her mad. But the knocks grow more insistent and eventually give way to a familiar, but concerned voice.

_Maz_ , she realizes and makes for the door. Sure enough, the little witch is on the other side. Without waiting for Rey to invite her in, the witch pushes through and makes a beeline for the living room. As if she knew something telling would be there.

Rey can only close the door and follow her, wincing at the gasp Maz makes.

“Oh you poor child,” She mutters, perusing the coffee table with a distasteful downturn of her lips, “You are a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?”

Rey doesn't know what to say to that, so she remains silent. Maz pulls herself into one of the recliners and pins Rey with her soul-piercing eyes.

“Suppose its all well and good that you are so strong. Heavens know you’ll need it.” Maz clicks her tongue appreciatively.

Finally, Rey finds her words, surprised her voice doesn't waver.

“What are you doing here, Maz?”

“After seeing you yesterday, I thought I would check in. See how your research is coming along.”

“My research? You mean about my Aunt? You could have just called.”

Maz just shrugs, “I didn’t have your number.”

“But you have my address?”

At that Maz's eyes twinkle, "I'm a Master Witch, girl. I can locate a single mosquito within a thousand miles to an exact coordinate in minutes. You think finding you would be a challenge?"

That makes Rey sputter a bit, “That sounds impressive.”

“Not really. Locating spells are the first bit of magic all witches master. Handy stuff.”

“But still, you can’t just pop up at people’s houses unannounced and invite yourself in.”

Maz waves a hand dismissively, “I promise you, I don’t make a habit of it. But I got to thinking last night after you left that I probably wasn’t as forthcoming as I should have been.”

Rey stops her retort, and her silence apparently spurs Maz on.

“Your Aunt’s activism caught the attention of some not so nice people. I was concerned that if you started digging into her past you might accidentally stumble on one of those people and get hurt.”

“You said it was an accident, yesterday.”

Maz meets her eyes, sadness welling, “I did. Just as that police report you uncovered claims. But you suspect, just as I suspected years ago, there was more to what happened to her.”

“And you think these people did this to her?”

“I do. And I know that if you go sniffing around them then you will be in serious danger.”

Rey leans against the wall at that, “You think they will do to me what they did to my aunt?”

Maz eyes flicker to the photograph and a shudder runs through her, “Not that, exactly. But yes, something horrific.”

“So you came here to make sure I didn’t do something stupid?”

“Of course I did. You are hell-bent on finding out about your family - you’ll do anything to find out. Including getting yourself killed or worse.”

Rey crosses her arms over her chest.

“I won’t do _anything_. I didn’t seek out that demon like you told me to. Compared to that, looking into some local gang is a joke.”

And she catches it, how Maz shifts uncomfortably in her seat. The nagging feeling that has been creeping up her spine, the one that tells her that she is missing something important, flares to life. Her eyes sharpen, her back goes straight, and the heart in her chest stops its anxious thundering and slows to a calm thrum.

“What is it that you are not telling me?”

Maz shifts again, her little hands pulling at threads in the old chair. Rey lets her silence add weight to the room. She can wait all day if she has to. Maz might be more powerful, but the witch wouldn’t be here if she didn’t need something. So Maz can sit there and take her silence until she breaks under it. Or she can carry her little old, wrinkly self out Rey's front door.

While Rey waits and lets the air grow heavier, she runs back over her conversation with Maz and what triggered the witch to fall so quiet. It hadn’t been her Aunt. Maz didn’t shy away from that subject - seemed open to it. It wasn’t Rey’s madness or her obsession. Maz seems so concerned that Rey will go to any lengths to get information about her parents.

_‘You’ll do anything to find out.’_ Maz’s words circle in her mind.

Anything.

Like meet a demon.

And suddenly, like a little puzzle piece sliding back into place, she knows.

“I did go to the demon.”

Because of course, she did. How could Rey think she hadn’t? Doesn’t the mess in this room prove it to her? And the blanch that flashes across Maz’s face is enough to corroborate her train of thoughts. Because now she knows why it seemed odd she spent an entire night driving around. Why she kept jumping from feeling well and happy to desperate and confused.

“And it wiped my memory.”

An entire night gone. Panic seizes as she realizes she doesn’t even know what the deal was. Did she sell her soul? Does she have ten years before it returns to drag her down to hell? Or will it just keep her soul around to use like a puppet? Or will it consume her? Eat her? And if she did the deal why doesn’t she know about her parents? Why can’t she remember? And her head starts hurting like there are little knives intent on splitting her skull.

Did the demon do something to her brain that changed her? Why does everything seem so wrong…

Her knees must have given out because she is now on the floor. And Maz left her chair at some point and is now gently embracing her and rubbing gentle circles against her back.

This woman had looked her in the face just yesterday and spat half-truths at her as if everything were just fine. As if she hadn’t made some atrocious deal with a demon that got her nothing but a brain that can’t seem to function properly.

“Get off me,” She manages to choke out.

And Maz does as asked, putting her hands up in surrender and distancing herself.

Rey takes the time to gather her breath and calm her heart, trying to push the panic down. _Now is not the time. Later. Later._ She tells herself. And though her head still feels like its splitting, and the room is spinning she forces herself into a sitting position and lets her head fall against the wall.

“Tell me what you know.”

— — —

Crisp pine and freshly churned earth meet his nostrils as he opens the cab door. He throws a quick thanks over his shoulder to the cabbie, duffle bag already slung over his shoulder. The man thanks him for the nice tip and then off the cab goes, stirring up dust and gravel as it screeches down the drive. For a second Ben watches the clouds of dirt billow around him, before he looks up at the porch at the two people waiting.

Their eyes meet and hold for an indeterminate amount of time. And then his father nods and the moment breaks.

He returns the nod just as his mother descends the porch stairs with determined strides. She only wavers when she is a foot from him, craning her neck to peer up. And if it wasn’t for the wetness gleaming in her eyes he would think her eyes were laced with cold, hard steel.

“Ben,” She manages to rasp, and one of her delicate hands reaches toward him. It pauses and trembles inches from his cheek.

“Mom,” He whispers, his voice no louder than hers.

And that is all it takes. She closes the distance in a heartbeat, hand grazing his cheek to wipe away at tears he didn’t even know had formed. He bends down to meet her hug, folding around her much smaller form. She titters in his arms, half sobs that are both desperate and joyous. And then his father is there, joining in the embrace to give his son a warm pat on the back.

When they pull back Ben gets his chance to really look at them. Even though it has been a little over ten years, time doesn’t touch their race like it does mortals. Both of them look like the same twenty-five years old they looked when he was born and will look the day they pass. And here on the manor’s grounds, where there is no need to keep their age glamours intact, they can show their true faces.

It doesn’t matter how young they look, he thinks. They have lived for a hundred years and carry the weight of a thousand. And it shows in their eyes, in their hunched shoulders at his presence.

And he knows he is the cause of at least a couple hundred years of that weight.

As his father predicted, Leia Organa’s softness lasts all of a minute.

“Benjamin Amidala-Organa Skywalker Solo,” She spits his long list of names with a boom to her voice that burrows into his bones. Even Han winces at the string of family names, knowing well that even in the deepest of her ires with Ben she only ever called him by two of them. To call a being by all their born names is to curse them.

He feels his insides quake at the command in her voice. And though he holds a power equal to or greater than his mother, he quells under her commanding voice like a young pup. His head drops as he falls to his knees under the pull of it, wincing at the familiarity of being on the receiving end of the most invasive and primal of the magics. It has been years since he has been made to submit like this, to bend. Unable to fight or resist. Not like he could with Snoke.

Its a mother’s command over her child that holds him hostage now.

“How could you? Ten years. Ten years.” She growls, and Ben feels the depression of the atmosphere around them. He doesn’t need to look up from the ground to know there is darkness pouring off her. He can smell her disappointment and fear crackling in the air. And when he does lift his head from the ground, it is not to meet the warm brown eyes of his human mother, but raging red.

It's been a long time since he has witnessed his mother in her true form. She has always been so ashamed of it, tucking it away like a dirty little secret. As if it was her fault her father led coalitions of demons to slaughter angels. As if she was to blame for the unbalance of the universe and the deaths of thousands. But now she stands before him in all her glory, dripping ebony liquid onto the driveway stones and looming over him.

There is nothing in this world, he is sure of it, more frightening than the rage of his mother.

“You left us to join the Order, after everything that happened to our family because of it. After all our warnings. After knowing what they did to your father and countless others years ago. And the things you did for them -“ Her voice cracks, and then solidifies again, “Don’t think I didn’t hear about them. Don’t think I don’t know.”

His insides curdle as she reaches out with one of her taloned fingers and presses the tip against his forehead. He flinches, turning his head to the side at the admonishment. She is one step away from uttering a curse. She has already laid down all of his birth names. All she needs now is to say the words and he will pay for all the hell he unleashed on his little corner of the world - on his family.

What curse will she choose? Will she cage him in an isolated dimension for an untold amount of time? For eternity? Will she force him to leave the property like she did his grandfather? Will she clip his magic and hold it hostage?

She could do all that and more, short of reducing him to dust. And that look in her eyes says that she just might do that, too. And he would deserve it all.

But it never comes. Her finger draws away, almost wilting.

And when Ben opens his eyes, he sees his father. Light pours from his skin as Han wraps his arms around his wife’s waist.

“He’s here, Leia. He is alive, unharmed, and he is here. Let go, Leia. Let go.”

There is a warm tone to his father, the counterpart to her commanding alpha magic. Where her voice booms and demands obedience, his caresses and soothes. And her darkness gives way, like water pulling away from oil. And it slips back into the little black hole of demon magic until she is human again.

“Han,” She stutters, her hands sliding over his grip, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Princess.” He mumbles into her hair and then places a sloppy kiss on her forehead. His hold falls away, and he places a hand on her back, steering her toward the house.

“Why don’t we all go inside and cool down a bit? Until Luke gets here. I think I’m going to have a whiskey. Anyone else?”

“I’ll need a double,” Leia mutters, turning toward the house, unable to look at her son. Her shoulders are squared and her steps are clipped. He hears every single one of them hitting the stairs as she ascends the porch.

Ben follows after a moment, using all the energy he can muster to help himself across the porch to the front door. His father’s sad smile over his mother’s head makes it a little easier. He had expected such a welcome, though that hadn’t kept him from being rattled to his core. And while his mother’s initial anger is now at a simmer and not flambé, he knows it is far from over.

But he hadn’t been cursed.

He leaves his overnight bag on one of the chairs in the parlor, following his parents to the den reserved for family. Han is already at the bar cart, filling three tumblers with whiskey. Leia settles into her favorite wingback chair, fingers clicking against the wood as Ben stumbles toward the couch.

“Not there,” Leia clips, raising one of her fingers to point to an old wingback that make’s Ben’s heart heave. “You always sit there. You are still my Ben, my boy, so you will sit where you have always sat. I don’t care if your ass is too big to fit anymore.”

His ears turn a bit red at her cursing, though his mother has never been one to hold back even when he was a toddler. Thankfully his ass isn’t too big for his old chair, and he falls into it with a grunt. It welcomes him like an old friend, even though it does protest the extra mass.

Satisfied, Leia nods.

“Good to see you still fit, kid. In ten years you sure have filled out,” Han says as he hands him a tumbler before taking a seat beside Leia in his leather chair.

And Leia goes to open her mouth, only to be interrupted before the words can get out.

“You in the back?” Luke’s voice calls out and suddenly there is the sound of clacking claws on the floor. Within seconds Ben finds his lap full of a shaggy old dog’s head.

“Found Chewie clawing at the back door. Figured he would like in on the family reunion, too,” Luke calls down the hall, appearing a moment later.

Ben glances up from rubbing Chewie’s ears to give his uncle a gentle nod. Luke returns the nod before taking a seat in the wingback beside Ben.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm Ben,” Leia says as a way of apologizing for keeping Chewie locked up in the backyard. “And we weren’t sure how he would take to Ben.”

At that Ben tosses a look at his mother, “You told him to attack me?”

Han looks sheepishly at Leia, who sags a little in her chair, “Not to attack you, just to keep an eye out for you and to sound the alarm.”

“Fat lot of good that did,” Luke says, ignoring the glare of his sister, “He went straight to Ben to give him licks. I told you that it doesn’t matter how dark his soul is, Leia, Chewie is bound to love and protect anyone with Solo blood and those added to his charter. And it can’t be withdrawn.”

Ben smiles down at his old childhood friend, meeting his warm excited eyes. Chewie’s massive tail beats against the chair steadily while he noses Ben’s hands.

“Hellhounds,” She grouses, downing a bit more of her drink, “What use do they have if they can’t protect you from your own family?”

Its a cutting comment, but fitting knowing their histories. She still gives Chewie a fond smile as he pads past her curl up at Han's feet.

Luke sighs dramatically before resting a hand on Ben’s shoulder and giving him a weak smile. “Its good to see you, kid.”

Ben returns the smile, faintly.

“So,” Leia cuts to the chase, “Han tells us you found an angel. And that you need help to protect her?”

Ben sinks into his chair, nodding. Then he proceeds to tell the entire story of meeting Rey starting with the coffee shop all the way up to leaving her at her doorstep last night. He, of course, leaves out any of the juicer bits, though the glint in both of his parents' eyes tell him they are not ignorant of his attraction.

“So, yeah. That's what happened,” He brings it to an end, running a hand through his hair and glancing at them all through his bangs, gauging their reactions.

Leia is leaning forward, chewing on her inner cheek as she does when thinking. Han finishes his drink smiles blindingly at everyone and no-one, a goofy grin on his face. Luke just sits back, fingers templed.

“So this young angel you met, she has been warded since she was seven?”

“That is what you pulled out of this story?” Han gapes at his wife and then turns to the rest of the room. “Is no one else going to bring up the most important detail?”

“Han, our first priority is to make sure she is safe,” Leia starts, but all it does is fuel Han’s animation. Suddenly he is up out of his seat, waving his hands in the direction of Ben.

“Our son, Leia, our demon son, found his mate. After all these years fearing he would be alone, he found his mate.”

“Sit down, Han,” Leia starts, “We aren’t even sure it is his mate. And there is no point in getting anyone’s hopes up until we are sure. And at that, as Ben has stated, if we do undo her wards and let her powers out then every demon from the east coast to the west coast is going to come snooping about. And if she does happen to be his mate, and they consummate their souls, then they will have to deal with those repercussions. It puts everyone involved in danger.”

Ben stifles his groan, seeing the fight that is about to build, remembering the days when he was little and the house was filled with their exploding voices. Luke puts his hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“And its this kind of thinking that put Ben in this situation. If he had just let her be, cast a protection spell over her, then we could be planning how to keep them together instead of how to pull them apart.”

“You would have him drive here, with an angel broadcasting her availability across seven different states? He would have been slaughtered before dawn. Your rash thinking would get him killed and Rey put in a cage or force mated to the highest bidder.”

“You are not even giving them the chance to find out if it could work?”

“I won’t risk the safety of my son.”

And the room falls deadly quiet as Han and Leia continue to shoot daggers at each other. By now they are both standing inches apart from each other, faces red.

“But you’ll risk the safety of the other half of his soul?”

At that Leia sputters, backing up a step.

“They haven’t bonded yet, so it wouldn’t be like that, Han.”

A cough from Luke makes both of his parents' heads twist to look at him.

“Before you two go back to your bickering,” He gives Ben a wink, “Maybe we should think about asking this Rey what she wants.”

“Luke,” Leia starts, eyes slit, “You can’t be serious?”

Han, however, starts nodding. “I think I like where this is headed. I’ve been saying all along that the girl should have a voice.”

Ben lifts his head from between his hands, looking at his uncle with curiosity, and catches Leia kicking her husband in the ankle in his peripheral vision.

“Han, no one wants to hear ‘I told you so’.”

“You want to bring Rey here?” Ben asks his uncle, ignoring his parents' shenanigans.

Luke shrugs, “It's the least we could do. We can undo her wards and show her what she is. Let her decide if she wants to return to being human or stay. And we can give her the test. See if she really is the other half of your soul.”

“Bringing her here can have serious consequences,” Leia starts, “For one she is in another territory, Snoke's no less. If word gets out that we took an angel off his soil, we could end up in a war. Secondly, an unapproved mating bond, which we all know are never approved anymore, would leave the two of them in contempt of over half the contracts and courts across the states. Like that couple a few years back. Remember they sent hellhounds after them to rip the demon girl to shreds? Made her mate watch. And they took the angel’s heartstring and reattached it to that hag in the low country. That is the price Ben and Rey would pay.”

“Surely you can use your connections to get their mating bond approved,” Han says, crossing his arms.

Leia peers up at him, “It wouldn’t be that easy.”

“You did it once, for us. You could do it again for your son.”

And her eyes flicker over to Ben, all that sadness from years flickering through her eyes. And he knows she doesn’t think him worthy of this gift. Why would he, of all the demons, after all he has done, be given an angel?

“We’ll have to bring her into our territory to fix her wards. It was our family, our father that put them there. And it was Ben that tried to put them back. She will go mad otherwise, and that will be on us. We owe it to her, to her family, to Obi-Wan to help her. And if she is already here…” Luke nudges.

Leia meets his eyes, then Hans, and finally Ben’s.

“Fine. If we are going to do this, we are going to do it right. How do we get the girl here without starting a war?”

— —

She stares at the cup stains on her coffee table, tracing them with her fingertips as Maz finishes her story. Though Rey can tell there is more to it than what Maz let on, Rey has to admit what Maz has confided in her is enough to make her head ache for weeks. Any more and she would probably have an aneurysm.

Angel. She is an angel.

One half of the force race, a group of magical beings birthed by the cosmos to keep the light and the dark in balance. Though there are so few of her kind left. Something about a systemic war and genocides that Maz quickly glosses over and tuts that in time she will learn about the histories. But right now there are more important things. Like fixing her brain.

And Maz let her know that the demon repurposed her wards to keep her safe. To let her continue as a human, but in the process had hidden away her past. But Rey, being what she is, and apparently a rather strong one at that is burning through the wards and causing damage to herself. And then there is something about germinating seeds, and honestly, Rey is too stunned to follow that thread of logic.

Which brought her back to the purpose of Maz’s visit.

“You want me to trust you? After all these lies?”

“You are not well, Rey,” Maz insists for the hundredth time since this started, “And it's my fault you are in this situation. Let me help you.”

“You want to help me by taking me thousands of miles away to someone that goes by Anakin, who lives in a mysterious cabin the woods, so he can perform brain surgery and fix me. In what world would anyone agree to that?”

“Or,” Maz holds up her index finger, “I could take you to Ben and let him drop the wards and then you can see if you want to embrace your true nature.”

Was that an innuendo? Rey’s mind hisses, as she catches the humorous glint in Maz’s eyes. Like the old witch knew about the attraction between the two. Rey decides to ignore it. “Right, because going to see the demon that I made a deal with, who parades around as a seemingly nice human that just happens to work at the same law firm as my best friend, makes much more sense.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever called Ben ‘seemingly nice’.” Maz snorts, and Rey shoots her a glare.

“And if I choose not to go with you?” Rey asks though she thinks she already knows the answer.

“There is no third option,” Maz shrugs, “Those are the only two choices you have.”

Though she knows it is stupid, she tries it anyway. She quickly puts her feet under herself and jerks up from the floor, rushing for the front door. She reaches for the bat she keeps in the corner, wraps her fingers around it, and then swings the door open wide.

She makes it all the way down her steps before she stalls.

“I really didn’t want to do this,” Maz sighs, and then holds out one of her little hands.

Rey’s body freezing, bat half raised in defense. Not even her eyes can move.

And she hears Maz clicking away on a phone, a pause, and then another voice deep enough to carry across the short distance between them.

“We have a situation, Ben.”

She doesn’t catch much more before the world goes black.

— —

They are halfway through their first family meal in ten years when Ben’s phone rings and he glances down to see Maz’s name flashing across the screen. For a second he just stares, heart hammering. It could be good or bad. He texted Maz last night letting her know he was headed home and to ask her to check in on Rey. The old witch had agreed, noting that she was going over to Rey’s anyway after seeing the state the girl was in. He thought Maz would just send a little text update. But a call? He glances up at his family, sliding to answer as he announces ‘Maz’ to the table. Everyone drops their utensils to listen, and Ben turns on speakerphone.

Maz cuts right to the point, “We have a situation, Ben.”

The room falls silent at those words, and Ben has to pull his voice from his stomach.

“Whats going on Maz? And heads up, you are on speaker.”

“So you told everyone?”

“Everyone but grandfather.”

“That's probably for the best,” Maz laughs, and then goes back to her original purpose, “As I was saying, we have a situation. I went to check on Rey, and you should see her living room. Papers everywhere, and she smells like she hasn’t showered in a week. Writing the same notes about her aunt’s accident photographs like fifteen times. She even found information about Alexander Snoke. Was about to call the Finalizer and ask to speak with him.”

“Fuck,” Ben hisses, running a hand through his hair. And he almost winces, expecting his mom to fuss about his language. But when he looks over to her, she is as pale as the lace runner on the dining table.

“So I did the only thing I could.”

Oh, he does not like the sound of this. Ben thinks, eyebrows raised. And he isn’t the only one looking at the phone in horror. Luke looks like he bit into some lemon rind. Han is the only one that looks remotely normal.

“What did you do Maz?”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man.” She starts, and before he can roll his eyes, starts telling him what happened, “I told her everything. Told her about being an angel. About demons. Told her about your deal. A little about her parents, but that's a lot for a day.”

“Did you tell her about the mating bond?” Han calls from across the table, and Ben glares.

“Is that Han? Tell that rascal that we can’t think about that right now. But no, I didn’t.”

“So how did she react?”

“‘Bout as well as can be expected. Stared at a coffee table a long time. Growled at me a bit. Showed some teeth. Then bolted after I asked her to come with me to see your grandfather. So now she is passed out in her front yard taking a nap.”

Ben wants to slam his head down on the table and curse Maz.

Leia’s voice cuts through the air, “Are you telling us that you have Rey unconscious in her front yard, knowledgeable about her heritage?”

“Yep, good to know you still got those sharp ears, Leia.”

Leia ignores the jibe, “You are going to bring her to my father, to undo the wards?”

“That is the intent.”

“Good. Excellent, actually. Do you have a way to get her out of the city without being caught?”

Maz huffs at the other end of the line, “Think about who you are talking to, dear. I ran the underground war efforts before you were in diapers.”

Leia smiles at the phone, eyes glittering. “I wouldn’t dare insult your skills, Maz. You just saved us a lot of trouble - we were about to start planning to get her out. Think you could change your plans and bring her here instead of my father's?”

“That's why I called. I didn’t want to show up unannounced with an angel snoozing in the back of the car.”

“When should we expect you?” Luke asks.

“Need some time to get a car and some disguises ready. Say noon tomorrow?”

“We will be ready,” Han replies, smiling from ear to ear.

“Thank you, Maz, for checking on her. And for helping her,” Ben adds, and he can hear the warmth in Maz’s voice.

“No need to thank me. I would have done it anyway.”

And then the line cuts off, leaving the room with a weighted silence.

“So, that took care of that,” Luke smirks, “Now, Leia, time for you to work your magic and get that mating bond approval rolling.”

“We don’t even know if she is my mate,” Ben says, for what has to be the hundredth time since dinner started. Han and Luke seem convinced, especially when Ben let loose that he used command magic a couple of times on her.

“You, kid, are just in denial. But we will know soon enough.” Luke waves a fork at him.

“So, tell us a bit about my future daughter in law,” Han starts, pinning Ben with mirthful eyes, “I bet she is beautiful.”

Ben wants to sink into the floor and disappear to never return. This is almost worse than fighting with his parents.

—— ——

She comes to in something that is moving and smells like stale cigarettes. When her eyes do open, wincing against the bright sun beaming in through her passenger window, she sees...wood. Rubbing at her eyes, and yawning, she tries to look again. Wood veneer. And then she glances out a window to see trees flickering past. And snow. Lots of snow. Then she is whipping her head around as she realizes she is in the passenger seat of an unknown car, probably one of those old woody station wagons if the wood veneer is any indication. Her eyes fall on a hodgepodge of crystals, dreamcatchers, and a bundle of herbs hang from the rearview mirror.

Then she looks to the driver.

And lets out a roar that is half scream, half growl.

“Who are you?”

In her panic, Rey tries to grab the wheel and hit the driver, which isn’t the smartest thing to do as they start swerving on the road. Finally, the stumpy man that is in the shape of a brick, with a mustache that could nest a family of five chickadees, bats her away and turns to look at her.

“Girl, it's me,” And the voice that comes out is not that of a man, but of a short little woman who is becoming her least favorite person in the world.

“Maz!” She shifts away, leaning her back against the door.

“Couldn’t let anyone recognize us.”

“So you transformed into a sketchy sleazeball?”

“You don’t look much better, yourself.” Maz chuckles and points to the car’s side mirror. Rey takes a gander and flinches back.

“Really? A mullet?”

“Your grandmother taught me this trick. She liked to say that everyone gives a wide berth to mullets and wild mustaches.”

Rey runs a hand through her hair and watches her reflection do the same. Its weird knowing she is herself but seeing a man in the mirror.

“You kidnapped me.” She accuses, brain finally catching up to the situation.

“I sure did.”

“And the car?”

“Borrowed with a fifty percent chance of being returned.”

Rey lets her head slam down on the glove compartment, pulling her arms around her face. This couldn’t be happening. Maz couldn’t have just kidnapped her, turned her into a man with a mullet, and stolen some beat-up station wagon to take her somewhere to turn her back to an angel.

She briefly eyes the handle of her door, thinks about opening it and jumping out. She would probably die or at least get really banged up. But if she is an angel as Maz says, surely that means she has some amazing healing powers?

Her eyes fall to the scars on her knees. If that were the case, she wouldn’t have those.

“Don’t even think about it. With those wards containing your power, you’ll just become roadkill.”

Rey lets out a groan.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be at our destination by dawn, and then we will get this angel thing all straightened out.”

“And what happens after that?”

Maz turns to look at her, and its weird to see her knowledgeable eyes staring back through a half-baked, red-rimmed, dude’s eyes.

“Just get through tomorrow, first.”

“Fine. Do you have a phone I can use to call into work? Since, apparently, I’ll be out for the week. And I need to let some friends know I’m fine.”

“You're not my prisoner, dear. Of course, you can have your phone.”

Maz reaches into some bag near Rey’s legs and pulls out her phone, offering it up.

For a second Rey thinks about texting her friends to let them know she is in trouble, but one glance at Maz tells her that would be unwise. The witch probably spelled her phone to prevent such things. So she does as she said. She calls into work and leaves a message about a family emergency that will take the week to sort. Then she responds to a few texts from her friends, letting them know she is fine and alive and is visiting some of her foster family for a couple of days.

And when Rose texts back for her to have a good time, she lets the breath she was holding out. At least she won't have to worry about her friends stressing about her. Or work.

Now she can just focus on keeping her brain from exploding.

—— ——

“Looks like an intense study session,” Luke smiles as he enters the kitchen, making for the pot of coffee and pouring a cup. He dumps a couple of heaping spoonfuls of sugar into the mug, followed by a substantial amount of creamer. Then he leans against the counter, looking at Ben over the rim of his mug.

“Yeah, thanks for bringing the books over,” Ben says, not lifting his head up from the text he is currently scanning. His pen scratches across his legal pad, scrubbing hasty little notes as he goes.

“I thought you might find those interesting. Been a while since they saw the light of day.”

“Not since Mom and Dad, right?”

Luke nods, crossing over to take the barstool beside Ben. He climbs up and reaches a hand out to grab the cover of the book. He glances at the title and makes a little ‘hm’ before letting it go.

“Nope. At least not in these regions. Hasn’t been another officially bonded couple in over fifty years. So they don’t get much use.”

Ben lets out a heavy sigh, pressing his fingers to his temples and rubbing. “No kidding. I didn’t think I would ever be in this position, so I never bothered to think about what was involved.”

“Too painful.” Luke supplements, and gives his nephew a weak smile. “Trust me, kid, I understand more than you think.”

Ben pauses, tossing his pen into the spine of the book to hold his place. After supper, Luke had disappeared only to return with a small collection of old, dusty books. He dropped them in Ben’s lap with some bravado, telling Ben it was time he read some grown-up demon books. At first, Ben had been confused until he dusted one of them off and turned bright red at the title.

“Did you ever read these?” Ben asks, waving a hand over the five novellas, known as the Amoris Disciplinam. They were a rare set of demonology texts - most were burned during the wars by the Empire. This set had survived by the hands of his grandfather who hoarded these like he did all Padme’s things. Until Leia and Han passed their mating test. And then Anakin, in a rare moment of familial love, had gifted them to his daughter on her wedding day.

Of course, the things had been tucked away under wards in the vault. Ben had glanced them once or twice but never had the gall to ask about them. Since he couldn’t possibly tap into the magic within them without a mate, there was no point in looking.

Luke sighs, and shakes his head, “Thought about it a couple of times, but always just came to the same conclusion - why torture myself?”

Ben understands that completely. Luke had not been so fortunate to find his equal and had always clammed up when Han and Leia talked about the bond.

“Right,” Ben acknowledges, eyes going back to the novel, “And Mom and Dad don’t remember much about the test. So I thought at least one of us should know what to do if Rey chooses to be an angel.”

“Anakin can do the test,” And then Luke drops off his suggestion at the glare Ben levels him. “Just an idea."

“I don’t want Grandfather performing the mating test, given his history.”

Luke nods, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. “I can understand that. But you can’t perform your own test.”

“Which is why I am asking you to perform it.” Ben levels his uncle with a weak smile and Luke’s shoulders droop.

“Get your mother to do it. Or Han,” Luke says argumentatively.

Ben snorts, “Yes, let the two most incompetent magical beings in the history of the family-run the mating test.”

“Your mother is hardly incompetent,” Luke crosses his arms in defense of his sister.

“But she isn’t trained enough for this,” Ben responds and Luke can’t argue that. “And you’ve done it before, for Mom and Dad.”

“That was, different, Ben. Your grandfather would be perfectly fine for -“

“Why won’t you do this?” Ben presses, his arms flying to his chest defensively and leaning toward his uncle with an intense glare. Luke grimaces under it, eyes shifting. “What has changed? Is it because you don’t think I deserve a mate after all I have done? Is it because you are still angry at me for leaving and joining the Order?”

“You are projecting, Ben,” Luke growls, “Is that what you think? You don’t deserve a mate? So you’ll just make sure she’ll choose human over angel so you won’t have to face the possibility she might not be your mate? Or worse, if she is that she will refuse you for what you’ve done? Or maybe she will accept you, but every time you look at her you’ll think about all the horrors you committed and know you are not worthy?”

Ben can feel the heat rising to his face, the darkness swirling around him and he wants nothing more than to snap out his hand and deck his uncle. His uncle that is projecting righteous indignation. But it doesn't reach his eyes. And Ben realizes before the anger can swell, that his uncle hadn’t meant it.

And he deflates a bit, some clarity coming back to him.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Ben hisses back, balling his hands in fists, but the look in Luke’s eyes tells him there is more to this. His uncle was striking out to hide something. Ben recognizes the game from years with his Uncle, though this is the first time he doesn't rise to the bait. It's the first time he caught on to the game before it ensnared him.

“Stop trying to deny the truth,” Luke says.

“I didn’t deny it. But you need to tell me why you won’t perform the test.”

And Luke shifts, like a little lion cub stuck in a cage with no claws. All he can do is shuffle to the back of the cage and stare back with wide, frightened eyes. Luke swallows and then runs a hand through his hair.

“Fine. You want to know? It was before I met Camie.”

“Camie?” Ben stills, leaning back to give his Uncle room. He doesn’t recognize the name, but the way it comes out of Luke’s mouth makes her sound significant.

“My mate.”

The word hangs in the air, growing heavy and oppressive the longer the silence holds.

“I didn’t-“

“Only the family knows, save you, kid. You had enough on your plate growing up in this environment. We wanted you to have some hope. Han and Leia could give that. My story won’t.”

Ben wants to explode at the secret, to rage and rip the barstools out from under them and sling them across the room. He wants to let his darkness out and let it rip and rend until nothing was left of the kitchen. Until his Uncle knew how much it hurt to be kept in the dark.

But he doesn't. He has to grip the island lip, but he manages. Because none of that would get him the story he needs to hear.

“Tell me.”

And Luke does, his blue eyes sad and piercing as they well with a few tears. A worn voice fills the room.

“Maz needed some help smuggling some angels out of California to neutral territory, so naturally she called on Han. There were supposed to be five of them. Two adults and three kids. So we arrive at the airport in the Falcon, and sit around and wait for the pickup. A standard operation. But the hours pass and we know something has gone wrong. But we can’t do anything but wait until we get news.

And then, sometime past midnight, these three figures come rushing toward us from across the tarmac. One is a tall woman, the others are two kids. And behind them are at least four empire operatives shooting. Immediately Han jumps in the Falcon to start her up while I am busy throwing up wards around us all. But I didn’t make it in time. The woman carrying the two kids hits the ground just as my wards go up.

I run over, helping the girls up and sending them to the plane. But they won’t go. They are too busy crying over the woman who is groaning on the ground. So I bend down and grab her, running to the Falcon and tossing her in with the girls. Han managed to get us out of there without any further damage. But the woman, I had her laid out on the bucket seat, and blood was just seeping into the seat...

I poured everything I had into healing her, but no matter how much I did I couldn’t get her to heal.”

“Salt,” Ben says quietly. Luke nods.

“Buckshot. I couldn’t get all the pieces lodged in her kidney and intestines. All I could do was give her enough time to cling to life to say goodbye to her nieces. But during that time, when I first looked into her eyes, I felt that tug your parents always talk about.”

And Luke points to that spot in his chest where the other half of his heart should be. “And though I didn’t go through the test, I knew. She was my other half. And she bled out on that bench seat before we even made it to Nevada.”

They sit in silence for the longest time, both sipping on coffee and not sure what words should follow. Eventually, Ben speaks, cringing as the words come out.

“You never said anything.”

“Because it wasn’t anything. I didn’t have the chance to make it something. Not like your mom and dad. Not like you might.”

Ben pulls back into his chair, head falling down to look at the tiles.

“She could die like that. Bleeding out in the back of the Falcon. There are still a lot of Empire sympathizers. And then there is the Order.”

“And there are mateless demons that are jealous, and humans that fear both angels and demons. There is a world of danger out there. But there is also a world of possibility. You can live in fear and gain nothing but pain. Or you can live in the light for even the briefest moment and maybe have a chance at happiness.”

“I’m sorry, for what happened to her. And I am sorry for joining the Order.”

Luke puts a hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“Let me see that book. I suppose if I am going to spout all this crap about not giving into fear I might as well face mine.”

The rest of the time passes in comfortable silence and brief words about what they have learned. And they go long into the night until dawn starts peaking over the horizon.

And the sound of an old station wagon ambling up the driveway announces Rey’s arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always...kudos and comments are wonderful boosts to motivation. I love hearing what you think, feel, or want to say about the chapter/story. So feel free to pick my brain or to drop a quick little note. But most of all, thank you for reading!
> 
> So what do you think? Did I take it a little too far down crack-tastic? I just couldn't resist plugging in Rey and Maz's disguises after the thought popped in my head. And how did you like the Solos/Skywalkers family dynamics? And poor Luke. He can't even find love in this story. If you haven't guessed it already, we are getting closer to the moment Rey and Ben finally acknowledge their connection and come together. We are SO CLOSE. Hang in there.
> 
> A couple of little notes:  
> \- Camie, Luke's mate, is based off Luke's daydream 'wife' in the TLJ novelization.  
> \- Amoris Disciplinam (translated by google translate from Instructions On Love - so take that with a grain of salt) are just as it sounds - instruction books on the bonds and mating rituals between demons and angels; they will be important *hint hint*  
> \- The idea for salt buckshot is from Kill Bill


	9. Transformations & Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its a time for discovery and raw emotions as Rey faces having her wards stripped and battles with her feelings about, well, everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am sorry for being a week late with this post. But it's a long chapter, so maybe that will make it a little better? I should be back on schedule now. Secondly, as always, thank you for all your support in the writing of this story. All your kind words, excitement, and kudos are all cherished. <3
> 
> So if you are ready, we now have some Rey POV as she comes to terms with the choices ahead, her heritage, and what has been done to her. Heads up, its a bit of an information dump (I tried to make it as subtle as possible) and we've got some angst. Rey isn't happy about being kidnapped and being lied to. And she is going to make that known. But don't worry - we are getting very close to these two soulmates finally coming together.

 

“Just wait here a second. Got to give Chewie your scent before you step out of the car,” Maz commands as she shifts the station wagon into park, gears grinding.

“Chewie -“Rey starts to ask, but a deep roar ripping through the air cuts her off. Her guts vibrate, the little hairs on her arms stand erect, and goosebumps spawn at the sound. She whips her head around to the passenger window, eyes growing wide as a massive wolf hound barrels toward the car with mouth wide and teeth gnashing.

_Holy fuck._

Rey fumbles to undo her seatbelt as the air around her turns bitter and burnt. The earth feels like it is shaking, quaking with each pound of the dog’s feet. She barely feels the twinge of her scalp as Maz plucks a couple of hairs from Rey’s scalp and rushes out the door. The little witch slides between the dog and the passenger door, holding out her hands just as the dog puts on the breaks and stops an inch from her hand.

All goes silent.

Curious, Rey peers through the window around Maz’s body and watches as the little woman lets the dog give her hand a quick lick. And she thinks the dog smiles, then, shifting from raging beast to friendly companion in a second. Its tail starts beating against the gravel of the drive, thudding like thunder against the earth.

“Hello, you beautiful boy,” Maz coos at the dog, rubbing behind its ears. The dog melts.

“I have a friend I want you to meet. Take a sniff.”

Maz unfurls her other hand, a few strands of Rey’s hair resting inside. The dog sniffs pauses, and then he turns his gaze to Rey. In the span of a millisecond, his eyes turn from brown to scarlet. Then he turns away padding back toward the house.

“Its okay now, little angel,” Maz announces, but Rey half-hears her. She is too shaken to move, eyes still following the dog as it ambles up the porch to a familiar figure. Her back goes ramrod straight as her eyes lift from the warm brown moccasins to well-worn jeans, and eventually, up to a thick cable-knit sweater that clings to massive shoulders, she would recognize anywhere. Her eyes rove over his tightly clenched jaw, his plush lips, and then to his eyes where their gazes lock.

_Ben._

Torn between curling into a ball and running up the steps to punch him on one of his chiseled cheekbones, she remains immobilized. Like the drop in barometric pressure during the building of a torrential thunderstorm - calm in the building of pressure.

Remembers how he looked walking into that firm when their eyes locked across the conference table. How he smirked and laughed and made the room feel so thick with delicious tension. Made her feel comfortable even as his hand fell to her knee and squeezed. How ravenous he turned her sex with just his smell. And later that day how he sat with her in support at Maz’s shop and then walked with her for food. Comforting, lulling her into a sense of safety.

All the while he was lying.

_Asshole, indeed._ She thinks, remembering their conversation at the Thai take-out joint, the one where she claimed he was good under his imposing aura. How she told him he should give her a chance to get to know him. And how stupid it makes her feel at how vulnerable and trusting she had been.

And she hasn’t even begun to touch on what he did to her when he was a demon. What he took…

There is a knocking on the window that pulls her back from her thoughts, and she realizes Maz is trying to get her attention. She shakes her head as if it could shake out all the cobwebs of her mind. Sees past Maz and notices Ben is no longer the only one standing on the porch. The other man is shorter, with wheaten hair and troubled blue eyes. His hand is on Ben’s shoulder, curled inward as if holding him back. The other hand is on Chewie’s head, scratching. His eyes lock on hers and give a little crinkle.

She turns her attention back to Maz, sees the facade of her disguise falling away like a snake shedding skin. And Rey glances down at her own hands to see sunburnt skin dissolve into dust. And when she looks in the side mirrors it is her brown hair and her eyes that stare back.

The door opens and Maz reaches in to place a hand on both of her shoulders.

“You okay, little one?”

“No,” She says with a bite and shrugs off Maz’s hands. She trusted this woman just like she trusted Ben. And this woman has taken her against her will to this unknown place, and wants to make nice?

Maz lets out a sigh, “Girl, I know it is a lot to take in. And I am sorry for my part in how this was handled. You deserve better. But I did this to protect and heal you.”

“So you keep saying,” Rey hisses.

A flash of hurt and anger flares in those beady eyes as Maz steps back. Her hands immediately fall over her chest, and Rey recognizes the body language of a coming lecture.

“Let me try, Maz,” A voice she doesn’t recognize makes her look up to see the man that had been on the porch beside Ben. His hand is on Maz’s shoulder while a kind half-smile pulls at his lips.

There is something soothing about this man that makes some of her anger dissipate. Kindness and understanding flow off him, as if he already knows her and wants to make her feel better. He offers a hand, and while she refuses it she can’t help but sag a little in ease at his presence.

“Hi, Rey. I’m Luke, Ben’s Uncle. I can’t fathom how angry you are with all of us for taking you against your will, and we have given you every reason to not trust us, but we really do just want to help you.”

She slides a little further into the car.

“By turning me into an angel.”

Luke doesn’t flinch like Maz does, and he doesn’t look away. “You are already an angel. If you decide that is what you want, then we will restore you to your true self. If you want to remain human, we can help with that, too.”

“You’ll give me that choice?”

“Yes, we will. We owe you that much.”

Her eyes flicker behind Luke then, to see that Ben is crossing to the car but not coming near her. Occasionally he glances over, hesitant and concerned, but he keeps his lips tightly shut and makes to help Maz with the bags without saying a word. And she is relieved he doesn’t speak or come up to her. Doesn’t know what she would do if he did.

Then her eyes fall back to Luke who is still speaking, “-my father at the request of your grandmother, was the one that first put up your wards. When Ben tried to restore them to you, well, it didn’t go smoothly. We have caused you great harm. The only thing we ask of you is that you give us the chance to rectify our mistakes. After that, it is up to you what you do with the knowledge we give you.”

She feels a little tug in her head at the word knowledge. That desire to know more about her past starts to creep up, springing up like the festering weed it has become - stretching for any sign of nutrients. Anything to feed its insatiable desire to know what happened to her parents, her aunt, her grandmother.

Feels her own disgust at her inability to control herself as the words spring from her mouth with such hopefulness, “Knowledge about my parents?”

Pity drifts across Luke’s face, and then his hands are cupping her face, “Yes, Rey. Knowledge about your parents.”

When he offers his hand she takes it. He helps her out of the car, directing her toward the house as Ben and Maz fall behind them, bags in tow. Once inside Luke nudges her toward a massive kitchen and plops her down in a chair at a breakfast nook.

“We are just getting ready to have breakfast,” Luke explains, motioning to the rather intense spread of food on the table. Eggs. Bacon. Sausage. Some little sweet cakes and some tarts. She can smell the strong coffee and taste the tart orange juice. “So I hope you are hungry.”

When she doesn’t answer he just keeps talking, filling the oppressing silence with his kind and gentle voice.

“Sorry about Chewie. We weren’t expecting you until noon so we didn’t have a chance to prepare him for your arrival. He can be…protective.”

He flutters around the table a bit, moving items around and then bringing a couple of things over from the stove and island until he is satisfied. He pauses then, looking at her with a tilt to his head as if deciding what to do with her.

To her surprise, he pulls out one of the seats and sits, turning toward her. He takes both of her hands in his, and waits until her gaze meets his. So she can see the sincerity in them, she thinks. “I know you are afraid, Rey. But know that this is not something you have to face alone. We are here to help you no matter what happens.” He gives her hands a squeeze and waits for a reply.

She just stares back, not sure how to take him. With a sigh he gets up. “Let me go get the others. Perhaps after we have some food and talk you will feel more comfortable.”

It gives her a second to glance around the kitchen and stare out the bay windows flanking the nook. Nothing but snow and trees stretch as far as she can see. She turns to eye the large dog curled against one of the vents. He cracks one eye at Rey, his tail thumping against the tile. Though he looks as friendly as any dog she gets the feeling that if she decided to open the bay window and make a run for it he would be right behind her with his teeth snapping.

There is something intelligent about him that she can’t put her finger on. Like he knows her thoughts.

Just like all the other creatures she has met these last couple of days. Ben. Maz. Luke.

Running isn’t an option. And even if she didn’t think they would just magically track her and drag her back, that little part of her brain that Luke appealed to when he insinuated he would tell her all about her family has her locked in this chair waiting to see what other creatures inhabit this household.

_I can’t keep living like this._ She thinks as she lifts a spoon off the table to stare at her reflection. _My mind is not my own._ And she notes the dark circles under her eyes, the wild state of her hair, the wan look to her skin. _I look sick._

Her thoughts are broken by a voices moving toward the kitchen, and she turns in her chair to watch their owners enter.

“Bout time,” She hears a male voice with a personality that screams mischief. “After you, Princess.”

Ben has the appearance of someone between twenty-five and thirty, so she expects his parents to be far older than they appear.

_Stupid_ , she tells herself, _If Luke, his uncle, looked the same age as Ben why wouldn’t his parents?_

First comes his mother, and she instantly knows this because of the hair. She doesn’t know many people with hair so thick it could make two layers of a crown braid without extensions, but his mother’s does. One of the many things she apparently passed down to her son. And behind her, not as tall as his son, but with a swagger that fills the room, stands a man with a smirk and eyes that dance.

A beautiful couple.

Their gazes fall to Rey and the father’s eyes light up even more, his mouth opening with what is sure to be a charming greeting -

Only to be cut off by his wife stepping on his foot. Then Leia is moving toward Rey with her hands outstretched, her husband grumbling affectionately behind her, “You must be Rey.” She says kindly, taking Rey’s hands in her own. “I’m Leia, Ben’s mother. This is my husband, Han. Welcome to our home.”

Han snorts behind her, muttering ‘that's not the kind of welcome you give someone you kidnapped’, but his wife ignores him. She takes the seat beside Rey reaching to cup Rey’s cheeks. Rey can’t find that she minds this intimacy from this woman as fondness starts to curl in her chest. As if Leia is pulling at something inside her and drawing out this warmth.

“Please know that I wish this was under better circumstances. I hope that once you get to know us that you will feel more comfortable.”

And Rey, with Leia’s hands on her face, couldn’t care less what would come out of this woman’s mouth, but she would agree until the end of time.

“Really laying it on thick, don’t you think?” Han says to his wife as he settles into the seat beside Leia, tossing a wink over her head at Rey. She finds herself returning the smile Han offers as Leia’s hands fall from her cheeks.

_They are both so charming_ , she thinks. They make her feel so accepted and welcome, just like Luke made her feel calm and safe. She watches as they all start to settle, realizing there may be more to it than their personalities. Can they make her feel certain emotions, like calm or charmed to lull her into a sense of security? Because it seems to be working.

Then Ben comes in, slowly crossing to the table with his eyes locked on Rey. She sees the hesitation in them, so different from the Ben she met a day ago. Even as he slides into the bench seat, making room for Maz to follow, he seems less sure of himself. His legs bump Rey’s and he stiffens before immediately pulling them away. In his eyes, she immediately sees his discomfort. Hell, she can feel it rolling off him in waves, a heady mix of guilt and unsureness with a tinge of hope. It's enough to make her gasp for breath, and the entire room goes quiet as if everyone else is experiencing the same thing. Where his parents had been all sunshine and charm, his uncle all calm and soothing, Ben is a raging torrent of emotions that flick from one to the other. It makes her head hurt as it presses against her.

Luke immediately takes the seat beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

And all of Ben’s emotions fade away to a dull pressure against her chest.

“Ben,” Leia warns, “You are projecting.”

She sees the tinge of color that blooms on his cheeks, and the flash of hurt for being scolded by his mother for whatever it is that he is doing. His eyes fall from Rey’s as his jaw tightens. But the atmosphere grows lighter and everyone takes a deep breath.

Maz lets out a tinkling laugh and pats Ben on the back, “What a great way to start off this delightful meal.” And then the little witch is heaping food onto her plate with zeal. As if Ben hadn’t just tried to drown them all in his emotions.

Everyone follows a quiet understanding falling over the group as food is ladled onto plates and bowls are passed with the exchange of thankful looks. Until they can no longer avoid the conversation when all the food has been passed and the silence grows too pregnant.

“So, Rey, what has Maz told you?” Leia starts the conversation while peering over her coffee.

_Guess we are just going to jump right in_ , Rey thinks as she finishes chewing on a piece of sausage. All eyes are on her now, and she feels a little flushed at their attention. “We are part of a force race made of angels and demons. Demons act as conduits for magic called demonic magic and angels are conduits for angelic magic. There is something about the two types working to create balance - but I’m a bit fuzzy on that part. Maz also mentioned a war that decimated angels, and that there are still those in the world that mean angels harm. Which is why my grandmother asked Anakin to ward my mind and hide my angel nature. I think those were the major bits.”

Maz nods over her food, giving Rey a wink.

“That's a good start. A bit simplified,” Han says and his eyes dart over to Maz. He winces at the elbow his wife inserts in his ribs while she shoots him a scathing glare.

“What Han means to say is that we are a complex race with an eternity of history behind us. And we will be happy to share all that we know with you. But for now, it might be best if we prioritize getting you healthy. The rest can wait.”

She says the last word at Han, stressing it with a hiss. It’s not subtle, the look that passes between them, and Rey knows there is something more they are not telling her. But she agrees with Leia - her head is already full and another bit of information just might crack it.

Rey takes a bit of egg and washes it down with tart orange juice before asking the question that has been heavy on her mind.

“So when you ‘fix me’ will I get to keep what I learn about my family? Or will you erase that again?”

And she glares directly at Ben, watching with some satisfaction as he blanches under her gaze.

“You can decide what you want to remember,” He says quietly. “As it should have been from the start.”

“The angel and demon parts, too?”

She feels the tension in the room bloom, everyone but Han and Ben straightening in shock and what Rey thinks is fear. But Ben holds her gaze, none of everyone else's concerns touching it, and says with authority, “If that is what you want.”

Leia starts, dropping her fork with a clatter, “That might not be the wisest-“

But Han cuts her off, hand on her shoulder, “I think we can make an exception.”

Rey watches as Leia’s mouth open and then closes, her gaze darting between her husband and her son until she drops her hands to her table and sighs. “Fine.”

She can tell Leia wants to say more, but she changes the subject before Rey can formulate a thought as to why.

“Why don’t we talk about how we are going to get you healthy?”

“Well,” It’s Luke that joins the conversation, and Rey quickly realizes he is the default leader on this subject, “Ben is going to go into your mind and undo the wards. Similar to last time. Once he drops them then you will start to remember bits and pieces and over the next couple of days, your brain and your magic will start to settle. Ideally, by lowering your wards your brain won’t have to fight to reconnect and heal itself. But we will need a couple of days for you to think through everything, for your brain to rebuild before we can set the wards - if that is if it is what you want.”

“So at least three days as an angel to make up my mind?”

“Or longer. We are happy to give you as much time as you need.”

“You can use that time to learn about our people,” Leia offers, “We can show you what this life is like. What you can do with it.”

“And we can fill in some of the gaps about your family,” Luke adds.

She feels that horrible weed prickle in interest at Luke’s words. Feels anger swell in her chest at her culpability. That one word, family, and she is putty in their hands. It doesn’t matter how much she wants to rage at them or throw their sparkling cutlery at their smiles. After all that has been taken, all that has been done. She wants to feel that anger and pain, let it cauterize all the thoughts racing through her mind. But that word, it melted her.

Her words are bitter, “Stop dangling my family in front of me like a treat to make me compliant.”

The tension that had dissipated from seconds before comes barreling back and everyone just stares at her with wide eyes. Except for Maz and Ben, both of whom drop their gazes in guilt.

“I’m not -“ Luke throws up his hands in surrender, “It’s just that you do.”

“And you are using it to manipulate me. To make me agree, so I feel comfortable around you after everything that has happened to me.” She turns to Leia and Han then, that storm that has been building in her chest finally releasing.

“Your son took away my memories and shut them away. Then he made me believe it was for the best and scrambled my brain so I don’t know up from down. Then he lied to me after he met me the next day. We even ate dinner together. Did he tell you that?”

Han’s eyes shoot to his son, a quirk to his brow. But Leia, instead of balking under Rey’s anger grows with it. Her bright brown eyes flash in response.

“Had Ben not been the one you ran across you would not be here, now. Maybe your wards would have never been dropped and you could continue your clueless existence. But more likely the demon would have dropped your wards, discovered what you were, and sold you off to the highest bidder. If he didn’t take a taste first.”

Rey inhales at her words, flushing, “So I am to be thankful?” She feels the bitterness rise on her tongue and swells in her chest. She can handle it if they are going to talk about it like its clinical. But if they are going to try and make her feel this is right, that Ben did right by her, she isn’t going to stomach that. She is not swallowing that pill.

Because what he did, no matter the reason, was not okay.

Han looks like he is ready to defend, his eyes growing little wide, but Leia presses a hand to his shoulder. And she turns to Rey, “Not thankful. Just understand that while this isn’t the ideal situation, it is the best way this could have gone. You are lucky.”

And there is an edge to his mother’s voice, one that sounds commanding. And Rey doesn’t like that, doesn’t like how it rancors her insides, makes her bubble and boil.

“Lucky?” She hisses, pushing her chair back from the table. “I don’t call any of this lucky. And while I appreciate, to some extent, your willingness to fix what went wrong, I resent that all of you can’t seem to see through your own blinding fear that what you did isn’t something that can be forgiven. Good intentions or not.”

Luke’s hand sneaks up to touch her shoulder, but she pushes it away, afraid he will dull her feelings and this rush of adrenaline and emotion will ebb. And she isn’t glaring at Ben, who looks sufficiently ashamed and guilty and hasn’t once asked for her forgiveness, because he doesn’t want it. He wants to own it.

But his family. It's so much worse that they want to peddle it off that she should forgive them.

She gets up from her chair, tossing her napkin onto her plate of food and looking around at all of them. Her face is flushed, half from embarrassment and half from rage.

“And I think I need a moment to clear my head. So can anyone point me in the direction of the bathroom?”

It's dead silence. Everyone but Maz and Ben look scandalized, or at least half sorry as her words sink in. And its Ben that manages to raise a hand, eyes dark and swimming with emotion as he points to the door that appears to lead to a hallway.

“Take a right and its the first room in the hall.”

“Thanks,” She says before making her exit.

——

For the longest time, she sits there, fingers pressing into her temple, her hair, her eyes as she tries to come to grips with what is happening. But it all feels like it is spiraling, and the only thing she can seem to hang onto is the little part of her that is singing: _ask about your parents, you are so close, find out, learn._ And it makes her want to pull her hair out, to crush her eyes, to do anything to stop that festering voice that is threatening control over all her choices.

If Luke hadn’t told her she would learn about her family she wouldn’t have walked so willingly into the house. Or sat there through all of this without such a weak fight.

And trying to combat two opposing parts of her mind is exacting a toll.

She is there long enough her legs go numb.

At some point, she hears the dog pad near the door, sniff and then wander off. And eventually, the smell of breakfast disappears.

And finally a soft tap on the door.

“Rey,” It’s Ben, his voice soft and hesitant, “Are you okay?”

She feels that familiar little drop in her stomach and the putter of her heart at his presence. An ache between her breast. With a sigh, she looks at the shadow under the door.

“No, this is a lot.”

She hears something shift, watches his shadow move and thinks he left until she hears the floor creak and the door groan. And realizes he had a seat against the door.

“I know. And I am sorry I put you in this position.”

She prickles at the sorry part, and she thinks he can tell it by his next words, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, so I won’t ask for it.”

And it could sound harsh or uncaring, but she knows what he means. He’s not asking for it because he doesn’t feel he has the right to considering what he did. She gives a little under it, “Why didn’t you give me the choice then like you are now?”

There is a long pause at the other end, “I think part of it was panic. I never expected that you were an angel under the wards, or I would have never made the deal. But when it turned out you were an angel…I’ve seen things, Rey, what they do to angels like you. And that's all I could think about. What if they found you? And you seemed fine as a human, better than being an angel on the run, so I put them back up. And I couldn’t let you know about your family. I thought you might run into demons looking into their past.” He makes a dark chuckle, “Though that's exactly what happened, anyway.”

“If they found me, what would they have done?” Its a question that has been burning, though she knows it isn’t good. Not after the hints, Maz dropped. Or Leia’s words during breakfast. But neither had been specific.

She hears his head thud against the door and the huge breath he takes, “That depends. It's not pretty, either way. Are you sure you want to know?”

“I’m already on the run. Why not know what I am running from?”

“Fair enough.” Another deep breath. “There are stories about some demon dens that find an angel and use him or her until they are broken. There are others that look for your kind because they can sell you for a glorious price. Some of them ship angels like you to markets where you are sold and forced into marriages or other arrangements.”

She feels a chill course her spine at his words.

“And some will consume you.”

“They wouldn’t just kill me?” Because thats what she thought she was running from.

“Your kind is too precious.”

“Were we not precious when an entire war was based on the eradication of my kind?”

Her anger and confusion flood her words, giving him pause to think of his next answer.

“Yes, and no. Before the war, there were just as many of your kind as there were mine. A perfect balance. But there was a group of demons that desired great power. And they used radical methods to achieve that power. They even convinced others to use those methods, too.”

“What kind of radical methods?”

“The source of demon magic is deferent from angels. We get our magical energy through consuming souls.”

Rey gasps, and almost strikes out but his chuckle pauses, “It's not as horrible as it sounds. When a soul passes, we consume it using its life force until it dissipates back into the cosmos to be reborn again. You see, souls can’t be reborn until they’ve shucked all the vestiges of their former lives. Emotions. Attachments. Desires. All that. And we can hone that into magic. We are kind of like black holes that suck in energy and don’t let it back out. But there are other ways to gain power - we can make deals with souls to siphon off them in exchange for fulfilling their wish.”

“And angels? Me? Do I need to consume souls?”

“Hardly,” he laughs, “As an angel, you are the opposite. You bring life back into the fold. We toss souls into the void and you bring it back to life. So your energy, while some consider it weaker, doesn’t rely on feeding. You take fledgling new sparks in your being and you fill them with energy until they need to break out and grow. Where we consume you produce and nurture. Where we are black holes you are white ones.”

“Destruction and creation,” Rey thinks back to Maz’s words.

“Exactly. But, what this group of radicals learned is that demons can consume the souls of angels. And when they do, it's like taking in a supercharged battery. Extensive power. And it feeds itself as the angel soul inside continues to generate and nurture life. And if done right, its essentially eternal free energy.”

“So they consumed angels and used this energy to take power?”

“And they convinced others to join their cause. They made demons believe it was their birthright, their destiny to harness that power. That only through consumption of an angelic soul could there be balance.”

“So that is why I am in danger. I could be consumed?”

“Possibly, but that would be the least probable. That world of thinking is…frowned upon, now. Most demons just want a companion.”

“Companion?”

“Angels and demons are built to co-exist. To bond. Like my mom and dad. My mother’s demon qualities are balanced out with his angel qualities. And they are stronger for it. Besides, there are some magics that can only be accessed with a companion.”

“Oh.”

“And its a bit hard to make kids when you consume your mate.”

Silence falls between them.

“Is that why we are drawn to each other?” She gets the courage to ask.

“Yeah.”

“Would it be this way with any angel or demon?”

She thinks about Luke who doesn’t seem to have an angel to balance him. Doesn’t seem to need one. And she definitely isn’t drawn to him like she is Ben.

“I don’t think so. But I haven’t met another angel, not like this.”

The silence stretches out between them at his words. And Rey finds herself stretching back a little on the seat, staring up at that ceiling. Hears his breaths slow and steady on the other side of the door.

“When you drop my wards, will they come for me?”

“We won’t let them. I won’t let them.” He says, and then follows up a moment later, “We have ways to block your magic. You can still use it but no one would be able to sense it unless they are close enough to smell you.”

She taps her fingers against her thigh and thinks back to how he has smelled all these days. How he reminds her of dark chocolate and coffee and all the most decadent of bitterest things.

“Smell, that's a force thing, isn’t it? Like I can smell you more than I can anyone else.”

“You can?”

She nods, though she knows he can’t see it, “Yeah. Have since the day at the firm, maybe even the coffee shop. But there everything smelled like coffee.”

He lets out a little snort, and she thinks she can feel his smile, “I smell like coffee?”

“And dark chocolate.”

She doesn’t tell him all those smells mix with musk and manliness. How that makes her knees weak.

“You smell like honey and sugar and sunshine.”

She feels herself flush at that, a smile tugging at her lips.

“So it is a force thing.”

There is a rumble of a little laugh, “Yeah, it is, little angel.”

And he says the last words with such an odd mix of laughter and what she thinks is affection that it makes her insides twist. And she needs to end this conversation, this almost flirt before it continues, because she can’t do this now. Not with everything going on, even though its the sanest she has felt in days. Even though when he is like this when it is just the two of them all these issues seem to disappear.

And she can’t let them disappear. Can’t let her anger fizzle. She doesn’t know this man, this demon. So she changes the subject.

“So what happens next?”

“We are going to drop your wards and then we are going to give you a pendant that can hide your magic from others. That should give you the time you need to process and make a decision.”

And she thinks about just sitting here, in this pleasant little bathroom with its marble tile and porcelain toilet, but decides she really doesn’t have much of a choice in this. Her choice will come later. She might as well stop wasting time, face this, get it over, and then face the rest of her choices as they come.

With a sigh, she walks over to the pedestal sink, turns on the tap and splashes her face with cold water. Then she looks at herself in the mirror, really looks. Sees the bags and lack of sleep under the skin of her eyes. Sees the frown marks and the lack of care. Sees madness welling in her bright eyes. Then she turns off the tap, dries her hands on the towel, and opens the door.

Startled, Ben almost falls into the bathroom with her, just catching himself with a hand. And he stares up at her with wide brown eyes, concerned and frightened.

“Let's get this done.”

——

It takes some time for Ben to gather everyone, choosing a room that is obviously their family den. It has a lived in, warm feel to it that doesn’t match the rest of the house. Well used old chairs, a dinged coffee table, bits and pieces of lives scattered about the place. And she notices immediately that everyone has a default spot.

Luke and Ben have two old wingbacks on the left half of the room, one of them obviously more lived in than the other. Across from them, on the other side of the table, is a pale blue wingback she immediately knows belongs to Leia beside a well-worn leather chair that screams Han.

She takes the couch, which is the least worn thing in the entire room. Maz follows, sitting so her legs swing freely and she grabs Rey’s hand and gives it a comforting squeeze. Rey pulls it away and Maz shakes her head.

“Now,” Luke is standing in the center of the room, near the coffee table with eyes set in determination. “I will need all of your help to see this through.”

Rey doesn’t know Luke that well, but it surprises her to see the level of command he manages to draw from the group when earlier he had been this docile calm man. But she can see it now, the commander in him that Maz mentioned. A man that has lived through the war, preparing for another battle in his life.

“Han, Leia, you will need to make sure the wards on the house are set and at full power. Ben, you need to drink some of that concoction Maz made and let that settle. While you are doing that you can walk Rey through the steps of the shielding circle and the pendant.”

And from his pocket, he pulls a tiny little necklace - a simple gold chain with what appears to be a crystal chip. Its all white and cloudy but glows brightly in the room. He places it in Ben’s hand.

“You also need to look over the incantation to set the crystal. It's going to take an absurd amount of magic to set, so be prepared.”

Ben folds his fingers gently around the stone looking up to his uncle.

“I’m not in the best -“

But Maz cuts him off, “Already talked about that. The drink I made for you should help with the aftereffects, and preparations for your room have been made.”

At that Rey looks to Ben, “Preparations for what?”

Leia looks to Rey with a small smile, “Ben will expend a great deal of magical energy to restore your brain and to enchant the pendant. He will need to recover.”

She looks to Ben, mouth slightly open, “Oh.”

“Nothing to worry about, kid,” Han says, giving Rey a smile. “We’ve been through this more times than you know.”

“Han,” Leia admonishes, “I don’t think that helps her.”

He shrugs, giving his wife a goofy affectionate grin and Rey feels a little tug on her heart. The atmosphere is so much different than it was in the kitchen as if having this task to help her is bringing them back together. And she thinks she can see the slip of what this family is really like.

Whatever happened to make them like what they were in the kitchen is forgotten in the face of this new challenge.

“Maz you are going to come with me to the family crypts. We are going to set up the salt ring and prepare the shielding. It's a good fourteen feet underground so it should help dilute any angel power that leaks through just in case.”

Everyone disperses after Maz drops a little metal canister on the coffee table, leaving Rey and Ben alone. For a second they just sit there, staring at the book on the coffee table and listening as everyone else shuffles around the house. Not sure what to say to each other or where to even begin navigating this awkward situation. Ben takes a moment to guzzle down whatever is in that canister, which smells horrible, before he finally breaks the silence.

“Mind if I have a seat beside you? It would be easier to go over what to expect.”

She slides over and pats the cushion next to her with a nod, and he unfolds from his seat to join her. Then he is grabbing the book, putting it on his knee and flipping through the pages until he finds what he needs.

“I know this is all new to you, but it's important to follow all of this perfectly. Magic is a wild thing and in order to constrain it, you have to be very careful. It likes loopholes, so you have to make sure whatever you do is solid.”

“Like what happened with my wards?”

He nods, “A lot like that. Now, this is called a protection circle. We are using salt to define the boundary lines to make the casting circle we need. The circle we are creating is a protection grid - it will essentially create a bubble around us to keep your light from leaking until we get the pendant working.”

She nods, though she really doesn’t understand much of it. “All you need to know is stand where I put you and don’t move unless I tell you otherwise. Not even a foot. And once the casting is done and I have dropped your wards, then I am going to put this over your head. It won’t do anything until I cast a spell that will dampen the call of your light. This is all going to happen very fast, Rey. A protection circle of this magnitude is going to be difficult for Luke and Maz to manage together, and I have to get this in place before it falls. Otherwise, we risk someone sensing your powers.”

“Okay, what else do I need to do?”

He shrugs, “Just hope for the best. I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

She nods, “So just do as I am directed? That's it?”

“That's it.”

She nods moving her fingers in nervousness.

“So when we get through all of this, what am I to expect? Will I sprout wings? Han doesn’t seem to have any. Will I be able to do magic like this? Will things feel different?”

He smirks at that, a little bubble of a laugh escapes, “No, you won’t get wings. You're not going to be like an angel in Christian terms. But you will be able to transform into your true form, as we call it, with some practice. Until then, he points to the necklace, this will keep your magic stable and contained in your human form.”

“So no lyre or cupids bow?”

“No.”

“That's a bit disappointing. I thought I’d at least get some feathers.” She sighs, glances at the book.

“What does my true form look like, then?”

Ben pauses, stares at her and then nods.

“A lot like I do in my true form, but instead of a cloak of black void you radiate light.”

The confused look on her face must clue him in. “Right, I forgot, you don’t remember my true form. Maybe - hold on a second Rey. It’d probably be best if we showed you before we do this. So you’ll at least be prepared.”

And then he is gone, disappearing down the hallway. He returns a minute later, his father in tow. Han gives Rey a blinding smile.

“So you want to know what your true form looks like, kid?”

She flushes, eyes darting to Ben. “Uh, yeah.”

“I thought it might be good if she had a clue about our true forms before the protection grid.”

“Good thinking,” Han says, smiling. “You’ll see soon enough but it's best to not jog your memory before we go to do surgery. Don’t want you to panic and step in the wrong spot.”

And before Rey even gets to respond, there is a change to the atmosphere. It feels like electricity, sparking and light and alive. And then there is Han, who’s body is glowing and changing and shaping and with each second it grows taller, stretching and expanding as light pours from his center and engulfs him. She has to turn her head away because it is so bright, holding up a hand.

“You can look now, Rey.” He says, and she turns expecting to see some glorious golden-haired man with wings of ivory shooting from his back and an angelic chorus singing behind him.

What he is is nothing less than she imagined, but far different.

He’s tall, so tall. But his skin looks to be dipped in milk or some white viscous liquid. But under that liquid he glows, little spirals here and there of a blinding white light. Like the time she peaked at burning magnesium in chemistry class. And he drips his essence to the floor, steaming up in a sizzle as it touches the ground.

She can make out his basic features. The smirk of a mischievous rogue. The heavy brows. The strong chin and forehead. The swoop of his hair. Like a silhouette filled in with this moving white paint with dots of glittering light. And eyes of startling blue.

And then it gone, and its the Han she just met this morning standing before her with a loopy grin.

“Impressive, huh?”

She doesn’t know what to think or say, so she just turns her gaze to Ben, expectant. Han wiggles an eyebrow and puts a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Guess that's your cue, kid.” And then he turns to leave tossing a wave over his shoulder, “Got to go make sure your mother is setting the shields correctly.”

Ben watches his father disappear down the hall before turning to meet Rey’s gaze. And his eyes are a little wide and open and so vulnerable, she thinks. She hasn’t seen him like this before, hesitant and unsure like he is about to reveal something secretive part of himself. As if he is afraid she will run.

And she might. She really might.

He holds her gaze the entire time, not moving a muscle and she isn’t sure if he is going to do it. Until she feels the drop in the atmosphere, recognizes the little tug from earlier when his emotions flowed over the breakfast table. But this time its heavy and harsh, smelling like burnt fumes and ozone. And the room falls dark as if all the light is retreating and curls of darkness slither toward him, into him and around him like a cloak.

She watches, astounded as they gather around his body and start to drip over him like melted wax until he is covered. And he is stretching up, up, and up toward the ceiling, black ink dripping from the tips of his claws. And his eyes, bottomless pits of that black swirling void fill instantly with red raging fire never once losing focus on her.

_I know you._ She thinks, a little bubble of a memory appearing in her mind. Of a night she hasn’t forgotten, one encased in tears, but also a phantasm of black and towering ink. A being that flitted between her eyes and melded into her body in the shower. A nothing that is materializing into something before her.

And when he stops transforming and is standing there looming over her a good couple of feet taller, she just cranes her neck to look up at him in awe. Han had been beautiful. All light and so blinding she couldn’t even look. But Ben, she can look at him without having to divert her eyes. She can stare at the pooling of the liquid dancing in his hair or the lithe talons of his enormous hands.

Remembers what she imagined them doing to her. How they almost spanned her entire stomach.

Gods, he is huge in person. But in this form, all lengthened and stretched he is a giant.

She wants to drink him all in. Let her eyes drop over his chin and down his chest, which she can almost tell without moving her eyes from his gaze is well contoured. Wants to see just how all that liquid drips over his shoulders, his biceps, how it follows the trail of his V to its inevitable end.

And those tree trunks for legs.

She knows she is crimson. Can feel the heat beating against her cheeks and eyes. Can see his own labored breathing as his shoulders move up and down with each breath.

But her eyes never leave his.

And she steps forward, no hesitation, until she is close enough her head is all the way back to meet his eyes. Close enough the heat of him is licking at her skin and making her feel warm for the first time in her life. As if she opened the oven door and the heat poured over her face.

And she stretches out a hand, so slowly until she hovering just over his heart.

“Can I touch you?” She whispers.

His eyes might be the most violent red she has ever seen, but there is a softness and vulnerability to them that makes her heart squeeze. Wide and open and so bare.

“Yes,” He husks, and she imagines, if it is possible, he is just as flushed as she.

With his permission she boldly places her hand over his heart, pressing into the ink and watching in fascination as it just flows around her, not deterred or sucking her in. Just diverting. And it feels like freshly baked cookies, all warm and gooey. But the body under it - steel.

And she can feel the flutter of his heart against her palm under all the darkness.

“I saw you, before.”

She feels him shift under her hand, straightening. “You remember summoning me?”

“No, before that.” She says, looking up to his eyes again. “I had a vision of you the night before that. I saw you.”

His heart flutters again, and just as he is about to speak Maz comes bounding into the room.

“I see you two are getting acquainted. Put yourself away, Ben. It's time to get to work.”

And his head shifts from Rey to Maz, as if he doesn’t want this to end. Wants to continue this conversation. But the witch gives him a glare and he submits. Rey steps back as all the darkness whisks away, and the human Ben she knows is back.

He takes her hand then, the one that was over his heart and tugs her toward Maz.

“We’ll finish that conversation later,” He says with finality, and it reminds her of the Ben she met in Poe’s office. The one with confidence and surety.

He takes her across the grounds, following a couple of footsteps that have already made a path until they are near a small dot of trees on the property. It's not far from the house, but it's enough to make her shiver when they do finally enter into what appears to be a root cellar under the patch of trees. Its cool down here, and damp. Bit it is slightly warmer than being exposed to the elements above. And before long she isn’t shivering as bad as before.

It isn’t too far to go, and when they reach the bottom Rey is surprised to see they are in a rather large room, carved right out of the soil. Its empty of everything except a circle, layered in salt as Ben mentioned, and a couple of things that Luke has spread about.

Ben drops her hand then, and she isn’t sure if it is because his parents are watching them intently or because he has work to do. But she feels the loss of it, and the heat it provided. A shiver runs down her spine.

Leia grips her hand gently, a warm smile tugging at her lips. And for a second Rey finds herself staring at the crown of braids upon her head, wondering how long it took this tiny woman to weave her hair this morning. Leia’s tug on her hand brings her out of her musings.

“Rey, whatever happens, whatever you decide. Know we will support you.”

She gives the older woman, which is so hard to think of her as older, a nod. A little warmth bubbles in her chest, and she tries to push it down remembering what she thought about them projecting emotions earlier. But she can’t help but find comfort in Leia’s words, in her grip, in the way she looks at Rey like she imagines the woman would look at a daughter - ready to fight for her.

She watches as Luke finishes the circle of salt, and the crossing of lines pulled straight out of demonic texts. And she swallows the apprehension that comes with the realization of knowing she is the nest of such dangerous creatures. Yet when she looks around the room she only sees a mother with sadness in her eyes for her son, a father with a hope that beams, an uncle that seems to contain a wealth of wisdom. A dog taller than all of them when on his hind legs with a ferocious protective streak that only gives way to warmth and devotion to his family.

A family so rife with turmoil and dramatics, and destruction toward each other. But a family cursed with the fate of the stars. A family she doesn’t know but is curious about. And even when they exposed themselves, let the darkness and light cake them in their true forms she hadn’t felt overwhelming fear. She had felt…

“It’s time, Rey.”

She snaps her head to Ben, who is standing on the outside edge of the circle, half turned toward her with a hand outstretched. She lets her eyes fall to it, a churning in her gut at what it means. Knowing everything is about to change if she agrees to take that hand. The heaviness of her choice fills the air, and she can feel everyone’s eyes on her. And their thoughts - Is she going to bolt? What is she waiting for? Do we need to give her more time?

Feels a little lock slam into place inside her heart. Because she can’t keep running from this. Sure they brought her here, but she has been searching for so long. To know about her heritage. And she can’t let that go in the face of her fear.

That is what her brain tells her.

But her heart, which is thundering in her chest, is screaming something else.

She wants to know if this is an illusion. Is this family real? Is Ben what he says he is? Are Leia, Han, Luke, really these beings that she hopes them to be? Could she find peace here, find a way to fill that empty void inside her that never seems to fill?

Can she find belonging?

_Its a leap of faith_ , she thinks. _You either take it or you don’t. No one can make it for you._

And she steps forward, placing a hand inside his and letting him bring her into the circle.

Because she needs to know if this is where she is supposed to be.

Ben holds her hand loosely between his but doesn’t let go as they step into the circle. And she is suddenly reminded of just how much larger he is than her. His hand dwarfs hers, fingers an extra half bit larger. And they feel warm against the cold bite of the winter seeping into the cut earth of the basement. She tries to ignore the plopping of water she catches in the back of her mind, or the way everything smells damp and earthy. Of course, it does, I’m feet under the earth.

If they wanted to kill her as a ritual sacrifice then no one would be the wiser.

Ben’s hand tightens on hers, giving it a squeeze as if he heard her thoughts and wanted to assure her that would not happen. She glances up at him after he positions her near the center of the circle, both feet on one of the lines and stands straight across from her as tall as possible. And they are so close she can feel the heat radiating off him, tugging at her skin and begging her to just step in. Reach out. Touch. She knows she is flushed, and her hand drops from him as she tries not to shift uncomfortably in his presence.

_Go ahead and change,_ she thinks. Wants. Because if he is in his true form surely he won't have this same effect on her.

“Now remember,” Luke’s voice cuts through her thoughts, “I will have the shield up to keep any energy from leaking through. But the moment all the wards fall, you’ll have just seconds to get that necklace activated. The wards on this place will give you a little more time, but it must happen as soon as possible.”

Ben nods, a silence falling over his features. He runs a hand through his hair and gives Rey a pleading look. “Are you sure -“

“Let's get this over with.”

He nods, and as his head drops so does the atmosphere of the room. The drop of pressure, the crinkling of air, the smell of dark power flutters around her. It's becoming a familiar feeling, one that doesn’t shock her like it did before. And it swirls around them both, tickling at her skin like a lover’s caress until it is all pooling inside him and pouring over him like ink. And he stretches upward, like a string is attached to his head and his puppet master is tugging up and up. And he is looming over her, dripping little globs of black onto her skin that hiss away like steam to a hot surface. When his eyes open, red and wide, like burning suns, she doesn’t flinch.

There is an energy, probably magic, that bubbles between them. An electricity and a beat of a heart.

Then his hands are slipping gently through her hair, cupping her face and tilting her just so. His face comes down, lips just a breath from her earlobe. She feels the rapping of talons against her skull, feels them elongate into needles, and closes her eyes in expectation. When they slip in, though, she doesn’t feel pain.

There is a pressure - a presence. His presence. But no pain.

Deja vu hits her like a truck. She has been in this position before. Felt all this before. And as her heart sings out this little song, this recognition, her mind goes through the series of shucking the husks of the wards.

The first gives with the swipe of a thought. Lock half cracked it gives no resistance. She can feel this thought drift through her mind, realizes she is hearing his mind as he flitters through her brain matter. The next one isn’t much better. The netting surrounding it has holes and unraveling strands. It requires a little more to jimmy the lock, but once it does it comes falling away like rotten lace. The last ward, the largest of them, isn’t in the same horrible shape, but there are bits and pieces that are starting to fray. Like a too stuffed suitcase ready to snap open and spill its contents. Ben works at the lock, his mind focused and silent while she floats around and just watches the bits and pieces of her mind flutter about like bubbles in the wind. Feels little tugs and twists against her psyche as he works, curious to know what will happen when it does fall. And finally, it does give way at his words exploding outward like a supernova.

She feels it both in her mind and in her body at the same time, a flooding of freezing fire and frightening light. Cauterizing. Burning. Aching to find the day. Feels flung out of her mind and back into her body just as she falls to the ground, slipping through his fingers like a fish. She hits the ground with a grunt, and then he is over her, eyes wide and concerned.

“Rey,” He mutters at her, bending down, “I need to put this on you.”

She glances at the necklace in his hands, eyes flickering to Luke who is screaming at them, and she nods. Dips her head toward him so he can slip over her neck. And then his fingers are around her neck, gripping the chain and the stone of the necklace. And he’s pouring something into it, blackness like his own swirling as he chants. And with each word he grows smaller. As if it is sucking his power into the crystal. And then he is turning, the darkness flooding from him and leaving him as the human she has knows. And he falls forward, onto her as his eyes roll back into his head and crush her to the ground.

And Rey feels her stomach heave, knows what is going to happen as that memory floods her. And she barely manages to push him over enough to hurl the black contents of her wards onto the ground, dissolving some of the salt circle in the process.

There are some concerned voices echoing in her head, but once her head falls back to the ground, Ben passed out on top her, she can’t do anything but stare up at the ceiling and feel the prickle of something under her skin that she doesn’t recognize.

She manages to come back to reality a moment later, Han and Luke standing over her while they help lift the dead weight of Ben off of her. And then Leia is there, slipping hands under her head and helping her sit up.

“How do you feel, Rey?”

“Rattled,” She answers honestly, “Sorry for the mess.”

She waves a hand at the inky pile of her vomit, and Leia rolls her eyes. “Nothing to apologize for. We’ve all been there.”

“Did it work?” Rey asks, looking down at the pendant on her chest and pulling it up to look. Luke had said it would change color. The once white stone now swirled like the ink on Ben’s skin. As if it were alive with his energy. She presses a finger to it, feels it dance against her fingertips. Feels him.

“It did. Now you two just need to rest.”

“Did, did anything get through the shield?” She asks. Leia shakes her head.

“No, child. No need to worry about that so long as that necklace stays right there.” And Leia presses a finger to Rey’s chest. “I’m going to add a little extra charm to this one - so it can stay in place.”

Leia’s fingers elongate, turning into those dark talons she is growing familiar with and touches the stone. “Tourmaline. To never leave by ill or will. Only to be removed by the blood of my veins.”

She pulls away then, sees the little draw of Rey’s brow, “To speak somethings’ true name is to give power to your words.”

And then she presses a kiss to Rey’s brow before pulling her up off the floor and leading her back toward the manner house.

“Let's get you to bed.”

——

She doesn’t know how long she sleeps, only knows her bones don’t feel as weary or heavy as they have over the last week. She feels different, though. Like a little buzz to her insides, flowing like little rivers under her skin. As if she can feel her very blood traveling through her vessels, and pumping through her heart. They hadn’t said anything about that, how odd it would feel. Then again they had been born this way, never had a moment to question if it was situation normal. Only she knows this oddity of transforming from feeling normal to feeling like burning ice or a supernova.

She spends some time just laying in bed, looking out the window over the snow-covered grounds of the Skywalker Estate. There isn’t much to see. The tip of the pool house is just under her purview, and well-kept grounds bordered by large looping conifers dot the rest of the view. Perhaps a shed somewhere down the way, or a hanger. Not much else. Or if there was, its all been covered by a thick layer of snow.

She watches the little white specks drift past the window.

And when that no longer captures her attention she turns on her back and watches the ceiling. Closes her eyes and listens to the house for footsteps and sounds. She can hear people moving about, and the clack of Chewie’s claws against the floors. Muffled whispers somewhere down below, and the occasional drifting walk past her door. At some point she hears Chewie settle at her door, pressing his back so that it groans under his weight. Good little guard dog to watch over the clueless girl.

Finally, when it grows too quiet and all the wooden planks on the ceiling have been counted, she gets out of bed and makes for the bath. She takes a quick shower, knowing she will feel better when she washes off the mess of the last couple of days and then brushes through her hair. She eyes her clothing with derision - it's all muddy and smells horrible - she can smell it all now like her nose is new.

She walks past it, into the bedroom to see if Maz managed to pack a few things for her. Isn’t disappointed to find a bag with various items inside, and a couple of changes of clothing - none of which look like they are made for this climate. She almost grabs the pants and shirt, thinking she will ask to borrow a sweater when her eyes land on a fresh pair of clothes laid on a chair at the corner of the room. She meanders over, finds that Leia, who else would it have been, had been thoughtful enough to give her everything she would need. A nice little wool coat drapes over the back of the chair, a pair of mittens sits atop a pale rose jumpsuit. Lined in wool she realizes as she runs a hand over it. There is a sweater to go under it, plus what she assumes are long johns. Woolen socks and a pair of snow boots finish the look. And on top a little note.

“Let's go for a walk when you come down. Find me in the kitchen.”

Not knowing what other option she has, and curious to see what Ben’s mother wants to discuss, Rey dresses and heads out, almost stumbling over Chewie on her way out the door. The dog looks up at her with warm chocolate eyes, a loopy smile on his face as he scrambles to get out of her way before bounding down the stairs after her. When she pauses, not sure what direction the kitchen will be, Chewie takes off and shoots her a look over his shoulder.

_Odd dog._ She thinks and then pulls it back. _Not a dog. Hellhound._

Eyes that speak of an intelligence unknown to other dogs. A creature that runs and the earthquakes under his feet.

Sure enough, he leads her directly to the kitchen, where Leia is settled in a comfy little wooden chair at the clawfoot table of their breakfast nook. On the table is a spread of fruits and morning delights that smell unbearably delicious. When she realizes Rey is just standing there, she motions her over, putting down her tablet.

“Have a seat, dear. You’ve got to be starving.”

Rey slides into the bench, giving Leia a small smile and reaches for a plate.

“Want some coffee? Its black and strong, just like Han likes it.”

Rey nods, dotting her plate with a mix of various foods, “Sounds perfect.”

Leia nods, handing the cup to her across the table, “Thought it might. Angels tend to have a taste for bitter things.”

Rey pauses at that, cup halfway to her mouth, and then her eyes flash over the table. Half of it is regular breakfast foods, but others are sweets and confections, and a rather substantial cylinder of sugar sits among it all. And Leia’s plate is piled high with sugary confections.

“And demons like things sweet?” She hazards a guess, and Leia nods with a secretive little smile.

“The cosmos has a sense of humor about such things.” Is all she says before letting Rey tuck into her food. They eat companionably for a bit, until Rey can’t stand but to break the silence.

“Where is everyone else?”

Leia doesn’t look surprised by the question. But she does put down her cup of tea and meets Rey’s eyes.

“Watching over Ben.”

Rey stops at that, remembering his state after he pulled down her wards and then did something to her necklace. Luke had said it would be taxing, so she hadn't been too surprised he had passed out. But for him to still be exhausted and to need watching?

“Is something wrong with him? I know Luke said yesterday it would drain him, but…”

Leia shakes her head, “Nothing to worry yourself over. Sometimes, when we use too much of our powers it can have repercussions. Normally we can plan for such things, offer up things in exchange for the use of such magic. But Ben, well, that's a story for him to tell you. For now, just know that a few months ago Ben was in a not so good place and he isn’t at his strongest. So Maz and the others are doing what they can to ease his consequences.”

Rey’s fork clatters to the plate, “Ease his consequences? So what he did yesterday, it hurt him?”

Leia looks down at her plate, “I didn’t know he was in such bad condition, otherwise I wouldn’t -“ and then she looks up at Rey and seems to shake something off. “No, it was his choice to help you, Rey. After the damage he did, he felt he owed it to you to fix it.”

“How bad is he hurt?”

Leia sighs, “He isn’t hurt, Rey. But his magic is unbalanced. And unbalanced magic can cause great damage if left to its own devices. Which is one reason I wanted to take you for a walk.”

“A walk? Are you trying to get me away from the house? To keep me from seeing what is happening to him?”

A knowing smile passes over Leia’s face, “Yes, Rey, I am. Because right now it is the last thing you need to see. We are a complicated race. There is so much darkness in us and it can be so ugly. But then there is such light. We are very much extremes seeking a middle ground. And right now, dear, Ben is far from his middle ground. It would be best if you saw that when you have an understanding of what it means.”

“But -“

“Han, Luke, and Maz will watch after him. There is nothing you can do here. But perhaps you can use this time to learn about your past.”

“So the walk isn’t just to get me out of the house, then?”

“It serves two purposes, yes.”

Rey watches as Leia munches on a couple more biscuits before finally pushing her chair from the table. Rey sees she is already in a similar snowsuit and boots. Knowing it is time to go, Rey stuffs a bit of bacon into her mouth before leaving the table to follow Leia to the back door of the house. Leia pauses to put on her own coat, grabbing a pair of mitts and hat. She hands another pair to Rey, who quickly puts them on.

“So where are we walking to?”

Leia smiles, looking over her shoulder as she holds the door for Rey to pass into the backyard.

“We are going to pay a visit to the Kenobi Estate.”

They descend the steps, trudging through the snow to a gate in the back, Chewie running along ahead with his tail wagging merrily against the snow. He pauses, waits for Leia to flip the latch, and then he is off galloping through the snow like any old dog. Leia follows along, down the lane of snow Rey spied while she lay in bed that morning until they give pause at some innocuous spot that looks no different from the rest. Chewie also pauses, circling around them with eyes wide and full of excitement, tail beating away the snow.

“So this will feel a bit strange, but you’ll get used to it. Feels a bit like a tug at the belly button and then its all done.”

Leia positions Rey across from her, looking down at Chewie with a nod of the head. “Let me have your hands.”

Rey does as asked, mouth half open in question until she suddenly understands what Leia meant when she says it feels like something tugging on her belly button. Space and time freeze as she goes catapulting from one spot only to land at another before her lungs even catch a breath. And then her hands are falling to her side, and Chewie is behind her, catching her before she tumbles backward. Because she almost does.

“Sorry about that.” Leia winks, “Its best done like pulling off a band-aid.”

“What- what was that?” Rey hisses, trying to right herself against Chewie’s back and letting her eyes grow wide at the sight before her. The house behind Leia, obviously once a sprawling manor, is nothing but charred ruin.

“Teleportation. Simple bit of magic as long as you have a viable anchor at the other end.”

Rey tunes Leia out, eyes locked on the house before her. The roof is caving in - looks like it was burned. Or like something fell through it and then exploded outward. And there are windows half hanging agape, and the grounds are covered in weeds and vines so thick and polished silver they look to be made of steel.

“This is my family’s estate?” Rey whispers, and Leia nods.

“What happened?”

Leia takes a deep sigh and pulls on her cloak as she eyes the house with nostalgia. “War, my dear. War.”

And then she starts toward the front door, and Rey follows, eyes taking in all she can.

When Leia press on the door it groans under her hand, but gives and soon they are standing in the middle of a grand entry hall with a checkerboard floor and a mint wallpaper that must have been cheery in its time. Now it is growing mold. A simple crystal chandelier rests on the floor, and Leia sidesteps it, choosing instead to dip into a room that must have been a parlor.

There are old couches, though time has broken them well. Leia waves a hand at the fireplace, and Rey jumps back at is flares to life, not a spot of wood or kindling in sight.

“I thought this would be the place to explain what happened to your family. So you can see with your own eyes. Perhaps it will bring you some peace to know your heritage.”

She glances around, sees pictures of people she doesn’t know. Old paintings scratched and crumbling. But here and there she thinks she spies her eyes. Or her brow. Or her chin. Warmth dancing in eyes or strong resolve in a mouth. An accompaniment of people she doesn’t know but feels somehow connected to. Like look here, I am of you. Our blood is the same.

“What happened here?” She finally asks, turning toward Leia who has settled into a broken little wingback.

Leia points to one of the portraits, a more recent painting of a man with sandy hair and sparkling eyes. Then her voice falls very quiet.

“My father.”

Rey’s head snaps back from the portrait to look at Leia who’s eyes suddenly look so far away.

“His name was Ben Kenobi. We always called him Old Ben.” Rey raises an eyebrow at that and Leia chuckles. “Yes, it is who Ben is named after. He helped raise us when my father could not.” She peers up at his portrait fondly.

“He raised my father when his parents were killed in the war before wars. Before Old Ben met his mate, married, and had kids of his own. Like my father, Anakin, he was the last of his bloodline. They loved each other very much, like a father and son. Or so Old Ben would say. But he was a lone demon raising a child demon. A powerful one, with all the talents of the Skywalker line and nothing to balance him. No motherly bond to control his powers. And he fell in with a horrible group.”

Rey looks back at the painting of her grandfather. Imagines she can feel the kindness radiating off him.

“They promised him control and power. To help all his pain go away. And so, my father, hardly out of his teen years, joined the Empire. Made friends with the main leader. Became his apprentice. And for years it was like that. My grandfather helped destroy the angel race his Master claimed stole and controlled all the power that was rightfully a demon's to own. To consume.”

And a silence falls over the room, and Rey turns back to Leia. “But he had you and Luke. So he had to have a lover.”

At that an actual warm smile tugs at Leia’s lips. “He did. Padme. She was older than him by a good hundred years, though they knew each other when he was younger. But they met again when he was older and the bond clicked into place. They married in secret. Had us.”

Then a darkness falls back over Leia and she gets up from the couch and starts walking over to the paintings. “But that is my family. We came here to talk about yours.”

And Rey knows a cue to end a conversation when she gets one. So she takes the opportunity to ask a question burning on her tongue.

“You said my grandfather didn’t find his mate until after Anakin. How?”

“They didn’t come together until much later. It can be like that, sometimes. Demons and angels can wait hundreds of years for their other to appear. Old Ben was one of those. But he met Satine through my mother, during the war while they were fighting the Empire. And they married. The wedding was beautiful. Huge and welcoming. A beacon in a time of crisis. They were always at the forefront of the war effort, trying to bring hope in times that were dark. They had two beautiful children, though my Ben told us there was a third we were not aware of. A Daphne, right? She must have been conceived right before Ben’s death. When Satine was on the run.”

It's starting to grow more chilled in the house, even as the fire crackles beside them. And she isn’t sure if its the sun lowering in the sky as night approaches, or if its the sadness radiating off Leia.

She knows they will be heading back soon. So she asks the last question eating at her insides.

“Why did you bring me here?”

There is a dark flicker of sadness that passes over Leia’s face as if it pains her to say. “Because my husband is going to try and convince you to stay an angel. And as much as I want you to stick around, I do not want you or my son put in harm's way. You need to see what our world offers you, Rey. You need to face that, own it, and make your decision…for you. Not for anyone else or any other reason other than you want to be here.”

Rey stares around the charred ruins of her family’s home, feels the loss of it all in her marrow. Feels a little of that void in her heart fill a little bit seeing part of the truth she has been hunting for so long. Face it. Own it. Use it to make a decision.

——

When they return to the Solo estate its dark out and the gaslights on the front porch are flickering merrily. They make for the kitchen, both starving after their trip, and Leia starts raiding the fridge calling out to her family members to see what they are up to.

Rey settles onto one of the barstools at the large island, watching Leia ponder the contents. And she gets the sense that Leia isn’t much of a cook from the way she seems stumped by the items in the fridge.

“Why don’t we just order take out?” She says finally, shutting the door, “Chinese sound good?”

Rey nods in agreement as Leia opens a cabinet that is overflowing with menus.

“There is this little shop in LA that makes the best sweet and sour chicken. But Han loves their hot and sour soup so you might enjoy that.”

“In LA? You can get food from there that fast?”

Leia tosses a look over her shoulder and gives a mischievous smirk, “If you know the right people. Some restaurants are run by our kind and they will magically send take out. Arrives at the door in twenty minutes or less.”

Everything she has witnessed with magic so far has been big and impactful, but this seems so simple and useful it makes her head spin. She could order take-out from LA if she wanted? Have it delivered in twenty? Who wouldn’t want that?

“The hot and sour sounds good.” Rey acknowledges and Leia nods taking off to find the rest of the household to see what they would like.

When she doesn’t come down in five minutes, Rey gets curious.

When another ten passes, she gets worried.

When twenty passes she can’t help but get up from her seat and go looking. There is no one on the first floor, even in the rooms she hasn’t seen before. And when she is done there she stands at the bottom of the stairs unsure if she should go up to the personal quarters. Perhaps they needed some family space?

But the silence that is pervading is making her antsy, so she swallows her anxiety and ascends. She listens for a sound, even passing her guest room until she is somewhere at the other end of the house, where it is apparent there are far more personal quarters. That’s when she starts to hear very low voices.

Like they are muffled.

And Rey pauses at the door it is coming from, staring at it for a moment. She glances up and down the hall, and then takes a deep breath. It smells like Ben, old and faint. Slightly different, as if it is a distant memory. His old bedroom, she imagines.

She almost steps away to let them have their time. Leia had said he wouldn’t be like himself for a bit, its why they had gone on the walk. She didn't want Rey around him in whatever this state is. But she said he would be better when they got back.

Had something gone wrong?

She can’t stop herself from knocking gently against the door.

The muffled voices stop for a second, and then hurriedly pick back up. But no one comes to the door and nothing happens. She tries again and again, and when nothing happens she finally takes a deep breath and turns the doorknob.

She hopes she isn’t intruding on something. That everything is okay, but her gut is telling her something isn’t right.

_I hope he is clothed_ , she thinks. And closes her eyes in case as she slowly pushes the door open.

The first thing that hits her is the smell of magic. Not the demonic magic that smells of ozone and fire, and not the bright and sunshine of the angelic magic she has seen in Han. No, this is earthy and balanced, and she immediately knows it to be Maz.

Second, when she opens her eyes, its to see all of them, the entirety of the family, positioned around the room far from the figure at the center who is screaming and raging.

Who is dripping ink as black as void and claws as vicious as a panther's as he rails against a bubble of magic. As shattered glass dances around the room and objects fly about. There isn’t a bed or furniture or anything solid anymore, just bits of destroyed debris and sawdust. All of it eradicated and destroyed.

And it's from him, she knows when her eyes lock on his towering figure that is swirling about faster than she has ever seen something move. Like it is out of control.

And his eyes are flashing and rolling around and closing as he clutches at his head.

“Rey!” Han’s voice screams from across the room, “Shut the door and go downstairs. It's not safe for you!”

And Ben catches her name, eyes immediately falling to hers. A twist to his lips and his body jerks, strange like all those ghosts on those horrible horror movies Rose likes to make her watch.

Twitching and popping and looking possessed.

That's what it is, she thinks as her brain stills, he’s possessed.

And he hisses her name with a shrillness that makes her ears scream. And then he is moving toward her, jerking hand outstretched.

_“Angel.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. If you are so inclined, I'd love to hear what you thinking. Now that some information has been revealed about what demons and angels are, how their magic works, and why angels are so rare (and what happens to them fully fleshed out) I'm curious to see what you think. And of course hear your reactions to Rey blowing up at the family, reuniting with Ben, and now what is happening to Ben. What do you think will happen next?
> 
> And in case you are curious, there are some theories (admittedly older theories) relating to black and white holes from which I loosely drew inspiration for the creation/destruction purpose of the angel and demon race. And the part about consuming to gain more power. [Here is a short article that sums up some of the theories about black and white holes.](https://www.space.com/40422-are-white-holes-dark-matter.html)
> 
> Have a tumblr? You can find me [@ohsnapcrackle](http://ohsnapcrackle.tumblr.com/).


	10. Red Strings & Compendiums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the darkness meets the light, some things are revealed and balance can be made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All you lovelies, thank you so much for reading and for all your support! You are the fuel that keeps me writing. <3
> 
> Today we have Ben's POV, picking up right where we left off. And as many of you guessed correctly, the light in Rey is going to have an interesting response to his current state. And before you continue, just a heads up that I am not sticking to any form of canon in this story - like at all. You'll know what I'm talking about when you get there. 
> 
> And I hope you enjoy the chapter - it has some of the moments some of you guys have been anxiously waiting for. ;)

 

 

_ Consume. _

That's what all the voices are screeching against his skull, twisting and twirling in his guts with fingers digging deep as they claw over each other. Reaching up and up and up until they gather around his heart and squeeze. Fingers digging into flesh, leaking into his veins and filling him with corrosive power, ripping through until the vessels under his pale skin are all tainted black.

Until his back snaps up off the bed, and the restraints creak with effort. Barely registers Maz’s voice over the cacophony of banshees wailing in his head. 

“Just breathe, Ben. Let the potion work.”

But he doesn’t know what she is talking about, not when there are hundreds of souls screaming out in pain above hers. Demanding attention. Demanding to be let out to exist again. Clinging to vestiges of life he surely can’t give them. 

_Hunger._

They sing in his veins until even his vision goes black and the world tilts. Feels the darkness gathering, swirling like a heavy gust of mayhem. Sticking to his skin and slithering down like a second skin. Clings to his limbs despite his tries to shuck it - to push it back. Hears the snapping of the restraints and then someone screaming to set a circle. Thinks it's his father.

Feels a gentle wave of coolness press to his breast, recognizing the light of his father. But it's not enough, not for all the voices singing out. And they surge forward toward the light, aching and wanting and demanding. Wanting the freedom it promises. The life they crave.

But it's not their light to have, and they screech and wail against the confines of his skin. Rail against him and his bones and his skull. Push about his parts and his innards as they crash and slide along the waves of his darkness. Screaming at the bars of their jail cell.

_Corruption._

They hiss and spit. Pull at his tendons and his ligaments until his joints are bending and he is banging against a wall of air, screaming at something he can’t see. Only knows the dark tsunami that is cresting and breaking against his insides, making his darkness swell and whip, rending and destroying everything it touches. Making dust of all it meets. 

And he tries to reach up, to reach out and hold his father’s hand. To pull himself out of the tar pit of souls dragging him under. But its too far away, and he doesn’t have enough energy to keep them at bay - falls into a bottomless abyss.

How long he is there, he has no clue. Time is not a construct in this void, where there are only crying and screeching souls. Those still clinging to life and unwilling to go into the aether so they can be reborn. Remnants of their past selves, ones that need coaxing and prodding to enter into the dark abyss of nothing. Ones that he still draws on for power, that he leeches from. 

Only he hasn’t been doing his job. He let them sit and fester too long. Let them long for the light of life and the memory of the life they knew to rebuild enough they became self-aware.

And now they are eating him alive from the inside out, letting him become their vessel to feed their needs.

He knew he was in bad shape, but he didn’t know it was this bad. Not horrible enough to send him into the void, just one breath away from spiraling. From turning into corruption and wraith.

And that thought makes him jerk up a little, desperation clinging in his gut. And tries swimming in what he hopes is up. Maybe, maybe he can just make the surface. Retake his soul and get it back under control. He has to at least try. Thinks of Maz’s voice and his father’s hand. Thinks about what would become of them, and anyone else in that house should the souls keep the reigns. Should he let them gather power until he becomes legion, remnant of death, wraith and leaves in his wake a trail of horrific destruction. 

Thinks of his mother and then of Rey, how he couldn’t let them meet that fate.

But he is getting nowhere. Isn’t even sure if he is swimming down or up or to the side. Can’t get any sense of direction in the pit of darkness. Tries, even as he shudders and screams against the heaviness around him. If it takes all of infinity to push through - if he can just get through. Just get control for one second…

“I know you.” And the voice is crystal clear, shattering all the screeching of the thousands of souls in his ears. Until there is nothing but silence.

And he sees it, a tiny speck of a thing floating below before it blooms into a bright and blinding light. Burning away the black, making it wither away cower in the corners. Feels the voices peel away with screeches and hisses and tears of joy. Watches all the darkness hiss away, cauterized until all is nothing but light - cool, healing, and calming.

He comes back to his body sputtering, arms around someone, though he doesn’t register who it is as he bends over, spewing pints of black liquid onto the burnt floor. 

“Ben? Are you back?”

Hear’s Leia’s voice and finishes retching before he is looks up at her. And he is bent over someone, one of their arms over his back and gently pressing circles to his spine. Inhales and knows that scent, turns his head to see Rey kneeled down beside him, large eyes wide and concerned. Even as her white sweater and pants slowly stain with the black ink he is spitting up. 

But he doesn’t pull his eyes away from her, not when he can feel the coolness radiating off her. See the shimmer of light just under her veins. Its like he is seeing her for the first time. No feeling her. Matching the sweet scent of her skin to the cool brush of her light. The call of her soul to his.

“You brought me back.” He whispers, and the room goes quiet at the weight of his words. “I was in the void and you brought me back.”

She smiles at him, relieved and kind. And he just engulfs her, wrapping his arms so tight around her he thinks he hears her spine creak. Hears her surprised intake, but she doesn’t pull away, just keeps her hands on his back and rubs circles.

“I don’t know what that means, Ben. But I’m glad I did. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t think.” He starts to babble, but can’t seem to stop himself as his knees give out and he crumbles into her arms. She gives out a squeak of surprise, falling back against the wall but not letting go. Clinging to him just as hard as he is to her. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbles into the dip between her shoulder and her neck, knows he probably has tears rolling from his eyes. But it feels safe here, wrapped in her arms. Afraid if she lets go that darkness will come dragging him back down into the void. Out of conscious life into something much worse.

He doesn’t register anyone else after that, not even time as he just rests against the cool light that bubbles against his chest. The gentle rhythm of a heart that sounds like his own, that beats in tune with his until he is calm enough it lulls him into a sleep.

— —

Feels the sunlight on his cheek when he wakes, wincing at the light and makes to curl in even more, deeper into the sheets and back into something that is draped over his back. Feels a coolness there that quenches his raging inferno, smiles as it moves closer like it is cold and seeking warmth.

Sighs back into the pillow before drifting back out.

Wakes again when nothing but moonlight streams through the windows - dappling over the crochet blanket that covers only half his body. Goes to pull it off, meets resistance and a soft complaining mumble. He freezes at the sound, aware he is not the only one in the bed. He takes a deep breath and moans into the pillow, and moans again when that pillow is just as heavy in her scent as the air.

Like honey and nectar. Like Rey.

And so he gently shifts so he can peer over his shoulder, sees the dip of her waist and the swell of a hip that is tucked right up against his ass. An arm that is slung over this waist and presses to his torso like its a lifeline, feet nestled under his calves for warmth. Her head is pressed into his back, chest gently rising and falling as she spoons him.

And she must have felt the shift in the bed, because she is shuffling closer to him now, mumbling in her sleep as she seeks his warmth. He lets her snuggle closer, falls back to the bed. Recognizes he is in the guest room bed, the one that is saturated in her scent that he has come to think of as Rey’s room in the short time she has been in his childhood home.

Feels his eyes start to grow heavy again and he tucks back in, pulling her hand into his own and weaving their fingers in together because it feels right. Feels her little sigh against his back and smiles before drifting back off.

When he does finally wake, it's to a hand pushing some of his hair from his face and the feel of a feminine chest pressed to his shoulder. Yawns and looks up to meet Rey’s eyes as she leans over him. And she gives him a sweet, abashed smile before she goes to pull her hand away.

“I’m sorry - I shouldn’t-“

But he grabs her hand and pulls it back, holding her gaze the entire time. Closing his eyes as her fingers rake through his hair. Then turns, adjusting so he doesn’t have to look over his shoulders to meet her. She gently lets her head rest on the pillow next to him so they are just inches apart. Hears her shift more comfortably and start to press her toes against his legs before hesitantly pulling them back.

“You can leave them there,” He whispers. Smiles as her little feet wiggle back under his calves.

“Good morning.” She whispers back, smiling warmly.

“Good morning.” He croaks, voice heavy from sleep and exhaustion.

“How are you feeling? You’ve been in and out for a while.” She shifts a little drawing in a tiny bit closer, and he sees her shiver. Grabs the comforter hanging loosely on his waist and tugs it up around her.

_How does he feel?_ He wonders as he shifts a bit to help her get settled. He feels tired - like he ran a marathon without any water. Parched. But he is alive, and he isn’t burning up. And he feels…safe and comfortable. Despite the protests of his body his soul is content and happy. Which is not a feeling he is familiar with in all his years.

“A bit worn thin, but otherwise good. How about you?” He pauses, feeling the words stick in his mouth, “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Rey shakes her head, pulling the comforter closer for the warmth. 

“No, you didn’t. You just, well, you scared me at first. I don’t know what I was expecting when I walked in your room, but it sure wasn’t that. And then I was just standing there in shock when you turned around. And you made this horrible gurgling hiss and said angel. Started walking toward me, jerky like the horror movie creatures.”

He shudders at the thought, at what it had to look like to see him in such a state - to see him on the brink of full possession by the souls in his being - to being an inch from being swallowed by the void and made wraith. 

“And then I get this feeling, the light inside me rising. And it was calling out to you and next thing I know I am walking over, through whatever that shield was Maz had up, and just wrapped my arms around you. Let the light spiral out and it flashed through the room, burning all the darkness. Until you came back, vomiting up blackness.”

He reaches out a hand to tuck away some of the strands of her hair that have fallen out of her bun. Feels his skin tingle at her proximity, and he shifts just a little closer, finding he can’t stand to not touch her. And she must feel the same way, because she is shuffling forward, against his chest, noses hovering just millimeters away from each other.

“I heard you. In the void. You said you knew me.”

“Did I? I don’t remember. It happened very fast.”

“You said that the last time you saw me in my true form, too.”

She blushes at that, eyes drifting away from his gaze, “I did, didn’t I?”

“And I meant to ask then what you meant by that. But Maz -“

She shuffles a little like she feels awkward talking about it, but slowly she pulls her eyes back up to his gaze.

“I’ve seen you before in my dreams, like that. In your demon form. They were rather racy dreams, too.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, cheeks tinting at that admission. Thinks about the time he had a similar dream, only of a creature in white instead of black. Leans forward a little and lets their noses touch.

“I had a similar dream, once.”

She inhales sharply. “Does that mean something?” 

He lets his hand drift up from between them, letting it gently graze along her jawline and watches her eyes darken. And his heartbeat speeds up, hears her breath catch. She doesn’t pull away, just holds his gaze. 

“I can’t imagine it wouldn’t.” He whispers, “Our magic is strange. Sometimes we have connections with others we don’t expect. And maybe, given all that we have been through, how we keep being thrown together, it means we might have one of those connections.”

“Like a destiny?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Rey presses against him and he can feel the coolness of her light tingling against his skin, feel his weakened darkness rising to meet it. She grabs his hand from her cheek, pulls it away to lace their fingers. Gasps at the electricity that passes through at the touch, at the melding of their magic. How they flow and ebb into each other - blending until they settle to calm.

“Before you passed out, Leia said that your darkness was answering to my light. That's what this is, isn’t it? Like Han and Leia? At least that is what Luke compared it to.”

He watches their fingers fold against each other before moving to look her in the eyes. Feels his heart squeeze as the words come out, as he admits them, finally. “I hope so.”

And she pulls his hand closer, pressing it against her chest, between her breasts right where her heart beats wildly in her chest.

“Tell me about it. What this balance is you all talk about and why you turned into what you did - why you lost control. Because I have a feeling I am missing something very important. Something that involves us.”

And he does, all while his hand is pressed to her heart with their fingers intertwined. All while she is a breath away and their eyes hold gazes. While he spills what he knows about the bonds between angels and demons. And she listens quietly and intently, never once looking away or pulling back. Just listening. 

“And as I consume souls, I take them into myself. Leech their life source for my magic. So more souls, the more magic power. And when I do I take away their need to cling to life so they can pass to the other side - to the void. And then they can be reborn. And as long as I use magic, enough to ensure they don’t cling too much to their former life, and not too much where I send them to void before they are ready, then things are fine. But if I don’t leech enough magic, or use too much, it tips the balance and the souls can take control.”

He sighs, shifts a bit, “Which is what happened. I took in too many souls in years past, trying to gain power. Because as long as you drown in it, its harder for you to miss something you don’t have. You don’t feel so void. But six months ago, that changed. I changed and decided to stop intaking souls. And when you do that - when you have been so gluttonous for so long - there is a withdrawal period. And I tried to put that off, tried to not use magic so I wouldn’t get the blowback for consuming too many souls. And I thought I could handle it, the spell for the pendant should have been enough of a sump for all that residual life force. Enough to push enough of my souls into the void. But I neglected them too long and they didn’t want to cross over. They still held too strongly to this life.”

Takes a deep breath, “But, theoretically, an angel’s light can be enough nourishment to calm them. They reach for that healing, that peace it promises and it satiates them. Resets them. But it takes the light of the same soul to do what you did. A soul of equal measure is what they like to say. For all the darkness I gathered in me, you have an equal amount of light to guide and replenish the souls I send to the other side.”

Holds her gaze and fills his eyes with intensity at his next words, “Which is what we mean by soulmates. One half of a force soul is in the demon body and the other half is in the angel body - one meant to devour and bring death, the other to bring those souls back into the light. Two sides of the same door.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. Then she speaks.

“And you think that could be for us? That we are the other halves of each other’s souls?”

He just nods, because having grown up in a world knowing that soulmates were are real thing had to be very different than growing up in a reality where soulmates were a fairytale. And while it doesn’t seem wild or fantastical to him, it must to her. She takes time to digest, wriggling in close and letting him toss an arm over her while her head presses to his chest. While their hands remain tucked in together.

“Is there a way to know for sure?” She husks out a few minutes later, pulling away to meet his gaze.

“Yes. There is a test.”

She nods, eyes suddenly looking very distant. And he can tell she is thinking, cringes slightly as he catches a few of errant thoughts like he did days before when they first met. _Can I trust this?_ But just like he can hear her thoughts, sometimes he catches a feeling of hope. A blinding, wild hope that matches his own in ferocity.

“Then let's find out. For sure.” She says, and he feels his heart swell at the thought. At her willingness to find out. So he tucks her back against his chest, presses his mouth to the top of her head and her messy bun.

“We can do that.” He mumbles and feels her squeeze his hand in reply.

——

Luke pats his back as he enters the kitchen, sliding into the bench seat next to Rey, holding back a smirk as their knees bop. She returns it with a playful bop back, and for a second all the worries of the past days fall away and it's just the comfort of Rey and the knowing glances of his family across the table that exists. He feels like purring at the feeling of contentment and the surety of having found his soulmate, that she is willing to take the first test toward what could be something wonderful. That she just might stick around and weather the world with him.

Though he tries to keep it from blooming, knowing she hasn’t made a choice yet. That she can drag this out as long as she wants, or she can choose to return to the human world at any moment. And he would have to face letting her go. 

But inside him, that little tug that is becoming so familiar, makes him think that is a very distant possibility. And waking in her arms, spending a long morning in bed talking with her, how they keep exchanging heated looks since their talk about soulmates makes him think she won’t go running for the hills. And she is still here, beside him, willing to listen to his family about taking the test.

“So Ben talked to you about the soulmate bond?” Luke asks, trying to be casual while he bites into a scone. Rey’s lips quirk at that, eyes flashing up to his for a second before she nods.

“He did. Said something about a test, to see if we really are bonded.”

“Kid,” Han interjects, taking a swig of his coffee, “You don’t need a test to tell if you are bonded. Your light met his darkness and they answered to each other. Doesn’t get any clearer than that.”

And his father winks at Rey before giving a smile so large it meets his eyes. And then he is looking at Ben, lifting his cup as if he is toasting. “Always hoped this day would come when our Ben wouldn’t be so alone anymore.”

And then spills a little of the coffee as his wife elbows him in the ribs, “Really, Han. They haven’t even taken the test. And yes, it does appear that way. But we must be sure. If you do decide to make the bond official, the ceremony can be fatal if you are not of the same soul. And I don’t want to risk either of your lives.”

Han sighs, mopping up the coffee, “Just go ahead and shit on my parade, princess.”

Leia glares at him.

He turns from his parents to look down at Rey, who looks wistfully at his parents, a small smile on her lips. And he can hear her thoughts, clear as day ringing in his head. Feel her hope that she can be part of this, at her happiness that Han is so willing to accept her into the fold. _Is this what it would be like if we are fated? Will this become my life? My family?_

Grabs her hand under the table and gives a gentle squeeze.

Luke starts, ignoring his family’s antics, “In order to do the soulmate test, we will need to find your full and true name. That means looking into your mother’s maiden name.”

And Rey raises an eyebrow at that, sitting forward a little curiosity. “How will we find that?”

Leia gets up then, a knowing look crossing her face. Looks around at them all expectantly. “Why don’t we take this to the den? And I’ll go grab the Compendium from the vault.”

Which effectively disbands breakfast.

They all make their way to the den, Rey and Ben settling onto the couch together and drawing a couple of eyebrows upward. He feels like his cheeks have been heated all morning, ever since they came down together for breakfast. Knows everyone is watching their interactions with a microscope, picking it apart while the promise of a soulmate test dances in the air.

But Leia breaks the pregnant feeling when she returns, dusting off snow from her shoulders and kicking off her boots.

“This should help,” Leia crosses the room, a large leather-bound tome in her hand. She gently places it on the coffee table.

“What is this?” Rey asks, letting her hand drift over it, pushing away some of the gathered dust. And her heart catches at her family name in gold leaf.

“Mom is this -“ Leia nods at Ben, settling into her wingback with steepled fingers while she watches Rey.

“Yes, it is Ben. This is the Kenobi Family Compendium.”

“Family tree?” She asks, feeling the buttery texture of the book and swears it warms under her fingers.

“Yes, every force family line has one. We call them Compendiums or record keepers. No one knows how they came to be, some believe they are just born of the cosmos when a new family line presents. It is one of two such books bestowed to a bloodline. The Compendiums record all the family history - every demon and angel that carries the blood of that family and the family lines that connect to them.”

Rey pauses, looks up hopefully, “So I will be in here?”

Leia nods, “And so will the true names of your family and the true names of the sires of husbands and wives that marry into the family.”

“Why didn’t you show me this earlier?” She meets Leia’s eyes and the older woman gives a weak little smile.

“Compendiums can only be opened by blood family members. Anyone else gets a nasty little curse.”

Rey winces at that. 

“So I had to make sure you were, as suspected, of the Kenobi blood. When you were able to see the Kenobi mansion, when the door opened without spell or cause, I knew.”

Ben shifts next to her, pressing his knee against hers as her eyes go wide, “So taking me to the mansion wasn’t just about getting me out of here or seeing my family estate? It was also a test.”

Leia lets out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Had I not checked to see if you were a Kenobi, the minute you opened that book your tongue would have rotted from your mouth so you couldn’t breathe a word of what you saw.”

Rey’s hand snaps back from the book like she has been singed. Ben chuckles a bit, and she shoots him a glare that makes his laugh rumble even more, though he tries desperately to keep it contained. But she looks cute like this, all flustered. Leia gives him a weathering look, which he promptly ignores in favor of sliding just a bit closer to Rey.

“You are of its blood. It won’t hurt you, Rey. And there is only one way to learn your true name, and you are the only one that can open it.”

And he places his hand on hers, gently pulling it toward the book. When she touches it again, he pulls back a little but keeps his touch against her arm, hoping to give her support. He can’t imagine how difficult it must be to soak all this in. She inhales and then gently opens the cover. 

For a second nothing happens, and he lets his own little sigh of relief that she isn’t seizing next to him as her tongue falls from her mouth. Then there is that prickle in the air of recognizable magic, and the book flings all the way open, spilling forth its pages like they are stuck in a heavy gust before settling.

Rey bends over, letting her fingers press to the page. He lets his eyes wander over the page where her finger drifts. With her there, controlling it, there is nothing to worry about the book spilling its secrets to him now.

And he follows her finger as it traces the family history. Benjamin Jin Kenobi married to Satine Urtze Kryze with three children. Eldest was an Ander Kryze Kenobi, labeled an angel. Second in line was another male, Ian Kryze Kenobi, marked demon. And last was a Rey Kryze Kenobi, labeled angel. Her birthdate was much younger than the others, and Rey pauses there.

“I was named after my aunt,” She whispers, letting her finger settle there, “But her real name wasn’t Daphne.”

He shuffles closer to her, thighs touching, “We often use a moniker to keep others of our kind from using our names in curses and spells.”

Watches as her face falls when her finger presses to the birth and death dates of both of her parents. She takes a deep breath at the realization they are gone, notes it was the same day. 

Then she is tugging on his hand, “What does the dotted line between my parents mean?”

And he doesn’t answer immediately, not when his eyes land on her mother’s maiden name and his insides go bone cold.

Leia answers for him, and he barely resisters her words as his eyes scan the line that connects to the immediate family of her mother. Her maternal grandmother and grandfather, and his spine go rigid.

“Oh, the dotted line just means they didn’t complete the mating bond. Not uncommon during their time. It's very rare these days.”

And then Leia’s voice grows concerned, turning toward Ben, “What is it, Ben?”

He takes in a deep breath, looks his mother right in the eyes as he reads out the information.

“Ian Kryze Kenobi and Evelyn Snoke Kenobi, angel daughter of Alexander Palpatine Snoke and Gemma Alton Snoke and adopted daughter of Satine Kryze Kenobi, gave birth to Rey Snoke Kenobi.”

His mother’s eyes go comically wide, and then her head is snapping over to Rey, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh, my dear. You’re Evelyn’s girl. I should have seen it. You got so much of her. And so much of your father, but it was easier to see him in you.”

And then her eyes are on Ben’s. “Doesn’t the cosmos work in the strangest ways?” She says before she gets up, and straightens her dress, “I think I’ll go grab some water. Feeling a bit parched. Do either of you need anything?”

Ben shakes his head, and Rey just watches her walk away puzzled. Watches as everyone else gets up to follow her, casting concerned glances at Ben and Rey.

“Is something wrong? She doesn’t seem happy about my parents.”

He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair, “Its not your parents. It's Alexander Snoke, your grandfather. He has a horrible history with our family - me specifically.”

“Oh,” She pauses, looking up at him, “Was he something like your grandfather?”

Ben nods, “Yes. Only he was never redeemed. My grandfather was.”

He is relieved she doesn’t press for more information, though he can tell she files it away for later. She’s too entranced by her family tree, seeing the heritage of her line spread out before her. And he can’t help but feel content about that, not when it reminds him of the first time he glanced at his family Compendium and saw his grandfather’s real name, connected the dots years later. There is power in knowing your history, good and bad. So he settles in, arm tossed over the back of the couch while she settles back, half leaning against his shoulder, almost against his chest while she thumbs through page after page of family records.

Trying to push back the emotions that threaten to bubble at the knowledge of her bloodlines. Of her connection to Snoke. Tries to keep it from showing on his face.

Until sleep finally takes him.

——

He wakes, something warm pressed into his side and a horrible feeling in his neck. Stretches a bit and starts to get up until his eyes fall to the woman tucked into him. Her legs are up against his chest, feet snuggled between his thighs for warmth. Her entire front is pressed along his side, head resting on his upper chest as she rises and falls with sleep. 

She snores lightly. He thinks he even catches a hint of drool on his shirt.

“So you finally decided to wake up.”

His eyes flash across the room to Maz, who is standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Rey starts to stir next to him, pulling away from her limbs and crawling out of his warmth. Feels his heart drop at the loss of connection while she starts to stretch and then proceeds to glare at Maz.

“What is going on?”

“You two fell asleep when you were supposed to be preparing for the ceremony.”

Ben grunts, “Sorry, Maz. Didn’t mean to hold all of you up. I guess the last couple of days just caught up -“

She rolls her eyes, “Yes, I know Ben Solo. It had nothing to do with you two just wanting to canoodle on the couch.”

“Canoodle?” Rey hisses, “Who the hell canoodles anymore? How old are you?”

Maz snorts, “Well apparently you canoodle, Rey. And I am old enough to know at least six different slang European terms for cuddling. And those are just from the Victorian era.”

Ben grunts at that, happy to see her ire directed at someone other than him. Though he is blushing like a fool at Maz’s declaration.

“Right,” is all Rey says as she starts to unfold and get up from the couch, watches as she bends a little to work out some kinks. Smiles as he catches the spot on the back of her neck and feels his insides start to tingle. Remembers waking up to her just this morning, the smell of her sleep clinging to his nostrils. How he wanted to turn around and tuck around her, pressing his nose to that spot. Inhale.

Catches him checking her out and raises an eyebrow, to which he just meets her gaze.

Maz snorts, “Yep, best we get this test over with before those hormones of your really kick in. I’d like to be out of here before a heat or a rut starts - or both.”

And Ben feels his entire body flush in humiliation at that, eyes going wide. And Rey just stands there, half in a stretch eying Maz oddly. Then she is turning slowly toward Ben, who is meeting her gaze with what he is sure looks exactly like a deer in headlights.

“Heat or rut? Like dogs and cats go into heat?”

The silence that falls is enough to answer her question.

“I fucking go into heat?”

“Well,” Maz starts, “Technically humans have cycles, too. Ovulation. Just it doesn’t come with the side effects of -“

“Please tell me I am not going to be up howling at the moon all hours of the night for a week asking to be fucked.”

Maz’s mouth shuts abruptly, and then Rey is spinning around to pin him with a flabbergasted look, “I will, won’t I? And what else is involved in this?”

Ben shudders, “I don’t exactly know. I’ve never been through one before. Only know about it a little through reading and, gods, the little I know from my parents. Luke used to take me away a couple of days before they started. Would keep me away for a week.”

“Rey,” Maz starts, walking over and placing a hand over hers, “Its a natural thing. And you aren’t alone. Leia will be sure to walk you through all of the lady aspects of a heat. And I can make a couple of potions to that will help both of you through it the first time.”

“You act like this is a definite thing. We don’t even know -“ Ben starts.

Maz laughs, “Honey, I don’t need that test to tell me your pheromone levels are through the roof. Have been since Rey helped bring you back from possession. Maybe even a little before that. And Rey’s powers being suppressed, well, that sure didn’t stop your hormones from kicking in. Just put them on pause. So this could be a good little whopper. You two have been working up to this for quite some time. Nature can only hold back so long.”

And then she pats Rey on the hand with a knowing look that passes between women, and Ben feels flushed all over again. Hating this topic of conversation but knowing it had to be had at some point. And then it dawns on him what Maz is saying, eyes going wide.

“Maz - you can’t mean that we are -“

She lets out a lilting laugh, “What did you think happened when you were in proximity to your mate for the first time? Give it a couple of weeks at most, and almost all mates end up going through quite a few intense heats when they first meet. Especially if they haven’t claimed each other yet. And the two of you, despite Rey being humanish at the start, have been building up since you first met. Even if she remained human, this would have hit you one way or another. Nature isn’t so kind in such things.”

“Fuck.” He growls, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Yes, there will be a lot of that. So don’t worry. What can be horrible about a week’s excuse to just bang it out and make some little force babies? Cosmos knows we need more angels.”

And then the wicked little witch is turning her back to them, tossing a demanding look over her face. “Well, are you two coming to get this farce of a test over with, or you just going to stand there staring with your mouths open at each other?”

And then Rey is off after Maz, eyes flashing and Ben groans into his hands before he pushes up off the couch and shoves his hands in his pockets. Not knowing what else to do while he chews on what Maz said. 

_Heat. Rut._

How often had he imagined what it would be like to experience one? To have his other half to get lost in for a week, to knot and bring to heights of pleasure neither could imagine. And all of those times it was a thing he put on a pedestal, that he ached for at a distance. Not something he would get the chance to have. And now that the possibility of it is here.

He gulps. Stops at the stairs and watches everyone gathered in the kitchen darting around. Remembers the times Luke would sneak him off for a week for bonding in the woods and how days before that he saw the looks his parents exchanged. How they would hug more and touch more. How they would laugh and meld into each other at every opportunity. How the house filled with a deep warmth that wasn’t always there when things weren’t right. When his mother was away at work or his father disappeared for weeks at a time. How he ached for those days before Luke showed up to stretch out forever. Because he could pretend his family was well and good.

Listens as Rey complains to Maz about just dropping bombs like that and then walking away. Watches as her eyes inevitably rise up to find his, wide and open. Concerned. But then she smiles weakly like she isn’t sure she should but can’t stop herself. Feels his own smile in return. And now that he thinks about it, how he spent all morning surrounded by her scent, it isn’t gone now. Its still burned in his nostrils, in every breath he takes. Even though she is nearly a room away.

Potent. Warm. Inviting.

Pheromones on the rise.

The brewing of a heat and his answering rut.

Feels his heart squeeze and putter at the same time as anxiety pools in his gut. Because he has never wanted to experience something so much.

And never been so scared to.

He takes a deep breath and crosses into the kitchen, not dropping her gaze, to stand where Luke motions for him. Across from Rey.

Barely hears Luke’s words of incantation, or feels the change in atmosphere as a circle flares to life and magic tickles at his skin. Only feels as his hand rises to hers, as their pinky fingers link like they are making a pinky promise. And Luke’s words flicker over them.

“Of the cosmos we reach. Of the cosmos we beseech. Of the cosmos we ask. Show the red ribbon that binds and fastens of Benjamin Amidala-Organa Skywalker Solo and Rey Snoke Kenobi.”

Feels a tingle at the tip of his smallest finger, like the prick of a thousand needles. Enough for a drop of blood to well, watches it plunge down to the salt circle just below. Watches as his and Rey’s blood hit and hiss against the salt. Feels a blinding rush of power in answer from the cosmos, the roar of souls against his skull, and then the cool burning light against his chest. Like a little bubble of coolness settling right beside his heart that burns. Feels its call to his, and looks down into Rey’s eyes. Sees they are no longer the warm brown but the brilliant blue of her true self. Knows his have to be red. Feels a tug on his finger and glances down just as the magic explodes away, and dissipates leaving them just as they were.

Except for wound around their pinky fingers is the tell-a-tale red ribbon of fate.

And their eyes snap together, wide and imploring in wonder.

Feels his heart swell near to bursting.

“My angel.” He whispers to the silence of the room.

Feels the ribbon vibrate as she slips her fingers through his hand and gives it a squeeze while she beams back at him in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now you can come at me with the pitchforks for that revelation. You know the one. Hopefully, all the fluffy Rey/Ben interactions and Maz's dropping a bomb on them both and then walking away is enough to keep you from maiming me.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. And if you are up for it, let me know what you think about the chapter. You can shout at me for the Snoke thing (wtf is that, right?) or mumble about the fluffiness of some parts. Whatever you feel inclined to say, I'd love to hear it. <3


	11. Building and Melding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of healing and some melding of souls and bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late post, guys. Work got to me. But thank you all for your kudos and your kind words, they helped me push through and get this long-awaited chapter out. I think many of you will be VERY happy for this one if you catch my drift.
> 
> For this one we have Rey's POV of the soulmate test as well as a bit of healing that takes place. Among other things that we have been working up to. I hope you enjoy. <3

 

 

 

Warmth is spreading through her fingertips, up her nerves, and into her soul. She feels the tendrils of his half hesitantly touching, recognizing, and caressing her heart like a fresh lover mapping new skin. She feels them wrap possessively inside her chest, burrowing their way into her vessels and making her entire body tingle as they settle in contentment - like they have found a home.

Knows her own ribbons have done the same to him.

Two halves of the same soul finding one another. And just when she thinks it is done, those nimble little threads twist and weave until both of their hearts are hammering at the same pace - creating a new rhythm that is a fusion of their previous pulses.

 _I know you._ Their souls sing back and forth.

Curious, she gently lifts her pinky, feels the string vibrate from the motion in her soul and feels him shudder in response. She pulls her gaze away from the red thread to meet his eyes that are wide in wonder. And she knows her eyes must mirror his own.

_I know you._

How many times has she said those words these last few days and not known why she said them? Had no clue that it was more than an acknowledgment of what he is, but her soul crying out in recognition? How it slipped off her tongue every time she was presented with his true form. How when she brought him back from that void the words called to her.

_I know you. I know you. I know you._

She grips his hand tighter, and he squeezes back. Their eyes don’t leave each other, even as the casting circle falls away and his family retreats from the kitchen. Leaves them standing hand in hand, unable to look away or to let go, not as their blood sings in unison.

Knows that letting go will mean she will, for the briefest moment, feel that loneliness that has filled her chest since her birth return. Doesn’t want to feel him step away and take away the warmth that his blooming inside her chest, filling all the cavities of lost parents and aching need for belonging. This feeling of being more full, halfway down a road to contentment, to a belonging she has always craved makes her cling harder.

Feels the need echoed in the way his heart slams in time with hers.

Ben. She whispers into the silence of the kitchen.

And then he is pulling her into him while he threads his fingers through hers. Pressing as much of them together as they can manage, pressing his chin to the top of her head though he has to bend to do so. He folds around her, cocooning her in his presence. She inhales deeply, taking in that scent that has been embedded in her nose for days. Now stronger, more potent. Deep and rich.

His chest expands at the same time while he breathes in her hair. She both hears and feels the low growl of approval and his fingers tighten their grip.

“Maz is right,” He mutters into her hair, “Your smell is more intense. Different. Harder to ignore.”

She pulls away a bit, tilting her head so she can meet his eyes.

“So is yours. But I thought it was because my wards were down.”

He shifts, and she can smell his feeling of awkwardness on the air and notes it takes him a moment to search for the right words, “I thought so, too. But it is stronger than when I first dropped your wards. Much stronger. It makes the thought of not touching or being near you feel -”

“Painful,” She supplies, thinking of how just pulling her head from his chest felt wrong. And the only thing she wants to do is press her nose to his sternum and inhale for the rest of time.

“It is supposed to get like this,” He adds. And she knows he is trying to assure both of them, “Its the coming heat and rut - the closer we get the more intense the need to be around each other until it is so unbearable being an inch apart. Or so that is what I understand.”

A silence fills the air as Rey presses her head back to his chest and sighs when he drops her hand to fully hug her. Loves the warmth that spreads across her back while he pulls her closer.

“You don’t have to do this. Any of this.” He says sometime later, his words calculated and emotionless. But she can feel how his grip tightens and his breath hitches. Her heart stutters as she takes in what he means, what he is offering despite his fear of her rejecting and leaving him. Because it's not just one of them putting their heart on this line, though she can tell he is trying to be strong about it.

But there is no denying that the tug in her chest from his half of the heart is from it crying at the thought of detaching.

How much of this, she wonders, is her hormones and how much is her? Where does her choice end and biology begin?

“I don’t know how much -” She pauses, “how much of this is me. Ever since you dropped my wards, and that moment in your bedroom, things have been different. I feel like me, but then there are all these other feelings that are getting mixed in. And then I have these instincts that start taking over before I even have the chance to think. And I am afraid of them, of what all of this is. And then I am afraid that this is all nature pulling us together, my instincts, and not me.”

He goes to pull back, but she reaches her arms around his waist and holds him.

“Then maybe we need to be away from each other…” He offers and she shakes her head violently.

Isn’t sure if it is her hormones or her when she says, “I have a feeling that would be a horrible idea. And not just because I really like your scent right now, and the thought of letting go makes me feel sick, but I feel like this will only get worse if we fight it. And I am not even sure I want to.”

He gulps, “Well, I don’t want you to fight it.”

Feels his heart flutter like a caged bird against her ribs.

She chuckles, “Well, if Maz is right, which she always seems to be, it sounds like we have much of a choice.”

Feels him snort, “Biology is a bit of a bitch. But, Maz is right.”

She nods, tilting to look up at him.

“If this is going to happen, I want to at least know what to expect. And I am not thrilled about talking to your mother about sex with you.”

He flushes red, from the tips of his cheeks to the top of his ears that just stick out of his wild hair.

“It won’t just be sex, Rey. It's a bit more complicated than that.”

She rolls her eyes, heart hammering in curiosity and fear. Just what could be that different? Sex is sex. Sure you could mix up positions and differentiate types of stimulation, but it all essentially came down to the same mechanics didn’t it?

“And I don’t want you talking to my mom, either.” He shudders under her. “But there is a book that covers all of this. Reading about it might be a better option, at least until you feel comfortable enough to ask questions.”

She nods, “I would like that.”

He goes to pull away, hesitantly dropping his grip on her.

“I’ll go get it.”

And there is this awkward moment where he goes to pull away but can’t get his fingertips to leave hers. And she has the need to step closer, to let him pull her back into his embrace. Feels the rush of cold swell in her breast where his heart dims and a little wave of fear grips her.

“I’ll be right back,” He says to her and to himself. And somehow they both manage to let go.

And it really shouldn’t feel this intense, this painful to be without his touch. But it does.

She watches him take a few steps back, slow, like a child testing the temperature of the water before diving in. Gives her a loopy grin before turning on his heel to head through the kitchen door.

She marvels at the expanse of his back, of how it felt under her hands just seconds ago. How he felt against her body - all warm and right. And there was this little tingle that appeared every time they touch, even when she was blind to their natures. Feels a smile tug at her own lips.

Feels it slowly fall as he drops, without warning, unconscious to the floor.

Its one of those moments where everything moves slow, though in reality, it is so much faster. She doesn’t recall screaming for help, but she must have because his family comes rushing in just as she falls to the floor beside him and presses her hands to either side of his face. Pumps in the light that courses through her veins like she did the day before when he was filled with bitter rage and lost in the void.

And it siphons off her, pouring into his soul like it did before. But it is faster, more devouring than it had been before.

It is Maz that bends down and presses a hand to his forehead, closing her eyes while Rey takes in deep breaths to steady her breathing and his. Feels his heart hammering in time with hers and tries to keep it steady.

“Oh,” the witch whispers, “Its the void again. The souls have pulled him back under. Deeper this time.”

Leia hisses, eyes flashing, “Again, but Rey helped bring him back. How could he fall so soon?”

Maz shrugs, but Luke speaks up, “We need to get him to Anakin, Leia. He isn’t just weak from not consuming souls, he is weak from not feeding off the souls he has consumed in the past. They are festering and consuming him in turn.”

Rey watches the looks passed between Ben’s family, especially the one that flits between Leia and Han. One that is pleading and scared.

“I think Luke is right, Leia. We don’t know how to handle this. But your father will. We have to let him help Ben.”

And Leia is turning to Rey, eyes wide with fear, “But Rey, you are his soulmate. You are his balance. You should be able to push back the void, keep him out of it.”

Maz is up then, grabbing Leia’s hand and tugging her gaze away from Rey. “She can. She does. But Ben has put himself in a position where even his mate can’t counterbalance the souls he has let fester. And Rey is still new to this, unaware of how to use her gifts. So we must go to the next best option.”

“What do you mean if I was more aware? Can I help him?” She holds Maz’s gaze, intense as her hand glides up to his hair. She feels him clinging to her heart, ones that she is so afraid to lose. Scared of what will happen when they wither away. Finds she is clinging desperately to his body.

“You can keep him alive,” Luke says, bending down to place a hand on his nephew’s chest and one on Rey’s shoulder, “But with your lack of training, that is the best you can offer. It will be enough. It has to be.”

She meets his hopeful eyes, the ones that are always so steady and calm. Nods and shifts as he reaches to grab his nephew, lifting him like a feather. Without another word he makes his way toward the garage, Rey rushing to grab Ben’s hand so she can still fill him. Let him steal bits of her energy.

“We can’t just teleport?” She asks as they start opening the doors. And she climbs in the back with Leia, letting his head fall on her lap while his legs stretch over his mother. And she presses her fingertips to his scalp, running them through his hair.

“No to Anakin. Not with his wards.”

She nods at Han’s gaze in the rearview mirror, “So how long -”

“An hour, Rey. You’ve got to keep him alive for an hour.”

——

It is just as she recalls from her memory. A snow dappled ground. Pines that stretch to the heavens. An intense jog up a steep incline. All to a cabin nestled deep in the snowy woods. A place where a plume of smoke gathers above the chimney, the only sign of warmth amongst a cool crispness bathed in winter white. It is a place that speaks in spells of silence and is only broken by the bird calls that break them.

A place for a very lonely man.

They carry Ben all the way up the path, the SUV unable to make the journey. And when they finally meet the summit, the house stretching out before them, it is to find a man that looks no older than his twin children. But he has a beard that speaks of age and eyes that burn with an intensity Rey could only imagine exists in an immortal.

So this is Anakin. The one that betrayed the man that took him in and raised him? The man that destroyed her grandfather, his house, and probably far more.

And she gets a flash of this man bending down to meet her eyes. His offered hand. And then everything slipping back behind those netted walls that she could never reach behind. Remembers the feeling of guilt and sadness that permeated him when he slipped into her mind. The need to make things better.

It's hard to reconcile the two.

“What happened?”

She almost skips a step at the growl to the man’s voice, a chill that proliferates. It doesn’t sound human, more guttural and choppy. As if something has cut at his throat and left it raw and aching. Leia puts a hand on her back, pressing her forward with a weak smile as if she understands what she is thinking.

Luke is the first to approach, with Rey in tow. They pause before the older man, letting his eyes fall to his limp grandson and then snap to Rey before motioning them inside.

He directs them to a small bedroom off to the side before Rey gets the chance to look inside the cabin. She just catches the bare amount of chairs and furniture, the lack of art and decoration. The simpleness. A man with a minimal lifestyle.

Luke places Ben gently on the flannel comforter before look up at his father, blue eyes hopeful and guarded at the same time. Anakin doesn’t pay it much mind, instead motions to Rey and points to the bed.

“You are his other half, are you not?”

She feels her body freeze, and nods before she can’t move under his intense gaze, “Yes.”

Anakin snorts, “Then you know what you need to do. Keep him above the dark abyss. Give him light so he can find his way.”

She stares at him, cheeks flushed and feeling dumb. One of her hands is still locked in Bens, but the other his hovering as if she is unsure. Everything up to this moment has come with instinct. But here, under this man’s appraising gaze she feels it floundering. And Luke’s words from before are rising, little nibbles of self-doubt.

_I’m too new at this. I don’t know the way. How am I supposed to do this?_

She fights back the prickle of tears that are threatening to spill, setting her jaw. Refusing to give to the panic, the fear. Even though her cheeks do flush in embarrassment.

“I don’t know how to do that on command.” She hisses back, not able to keep the bite out of her words.

Anakin raises a brow and then turns to look at his son. “Seriously? How does she not know -”

“She isn’t trained, father.” Luke sighs, “She didn’t even know she was an angel until three days ago. Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me?”

And then his head snaps back to Rey, this time really looking at her. And those intense dark eyes slowly widen at the edges.

“That little girl Satine brought.”

“Oh, good. You remember something from the past for once.” Leia hisses from her corner of the room, and Han’s hand falls to her shoulder in warning.

Anakin completely ignores her.

“So you are not trained. That will make this harder.”

“He is lucky to have a mate at all, despite all that you did.”

And those words from Leia’s mouth do make her father turn to look at his daughter. Both of them meeting their intense gazes like a standoff in an old west movie. Both gazes ones that could chill organs and grind bones. And if they had time, perhaps Rey would have placed a wager that Leia would have won the contest, but they don’t. And she is thankful when Luke clears the air.

“Can we not, right now? Ben needs us.”

And that makes Leia drift back toward Han and Anakin return his attention to his grandson. Both Rey and Luke let out their held breaths.

“Well, girl, let's see if you got some of that Kenobi resolve. Sit behind him on the bed. Put his head in your lap. I’m guessing you at least know how to push your light into him, considering he survived the ride up here.”

She nods and does as he says, climbing onto the bed. She places her hands in his hair and feels the warmth of his burning skin.

“Whatever happens, Kenobi -” And he says her name with a little sing-a-song lilt like he is half mocking half joking about her name. “You hang onto him and pour that light in. If you are his mate, he will come back to you. Ben’s never been good at letting go of things. Including life. And he surely won’t let go of his mate.”

“I know,” She whispers, and Anakin’s eyes flash again.

“I hope you do. He deserves a mate that is as fierce as him.”

Anakin leans over then, hands on his grandson’s face as his fingers elongate into those strange spindly needles that slip under skin. Dip into his brain. She represses a shudder at the memory of similar fingers inside her mind.

“His souls are festering. All of them,” Anakin hisses, “And he has a lot of them. How did this happen?”

Leia shifts uncomfortably, but it is Han that speaks up.

“Snoke. He got mixed up with him about ten years ago. He tried to get out a few months ago. Tried to cut all of his magic off. We didn’t know the extent of it until he showed up asking for help with Rey.”

“You should have come the moment you knew,” Anakin hisses.

The room falls quiet as the older demon works, eyes closed and fingers pressing and subtly shifting. It is strange seeing this happen from this perspective, watching this demonic brain surgery happen to another other than her. And it takes longer than she recalls. Watches as Ben’s face contorts along the way.

Anakin occasionally shifts and grunts, pressing even more to Ben’s mind as the time slips past. Slowly the room starts to vibrate and she feels that drain on her light more than before. Like a drying well that is still being tapped. She clings, pressing on as her vision starts to darken around the edges and the world wobbles. Hangs on as what reserves of light she has left slip through her skin and burrow into him, keeping that little light alive inside the void.

Then there are voices screaming into her mind, clawing their way inside. They burn away at the sight of her, becoming dust and ash. Their voices disappearing into the chilling light until they are gone. And her heart starts to swell, growing with light and need and warmth. And she thinks light explodes out of her, filling the room.

She doesn’t wake to the bedroom or Ben. Not at first. Instead, she finds herself sitting up in the middle of a deep haze of white. Like the purest fog. When she looks up, just hovering above her head, she sees little orbs of light fluttering about. Chasing each other and darting around, like children at a game of tag. Hears their little chimes of laughter.

Curious, she reaches out a hand, and smiles as one of them descends to rest on the tip of her finger. It pulses in recognition, like a little smile, and it tickles her fingertip. She hears it laugh, warm and tinkling like a toddler before it flits away back into the haze. All the others follow, continuing their game of chase through the clouds of well-lit haze.

She starts to get up, intent on following them when she hears her name.

_Rey._

And she turns to look behind her and sees one tiny little speck of dark, like a floating void. It looks imposing compared to the rest of the warm fog, but it doesn’t frighten her. She can smell him through it, feel his presence. Knows it's him on the other end. Just like she was the light in his abyss he is the dark in her fog. And though she is tempted to turn back to the little orbs that sound like children, she feels that tug in her chest. The same one that consumed her hours ago.

And she knows where she needs to go.

 _He’s safe. He is back._ She thinks.

So she leaves the little orbs behind to play, choosing to walk to the void instead. Back to Ben.

And wakes with a sharp inhale as his scent hits her like a truck.

It is warm here, nestled in his arms. Tucked into sheets that don’t smell a thing like the manor but are already soaking him in. And with his arm slung over her, head buried in her shoulder while his chest rises and falls, she feels safe. Couldn’t imagine a better feeling than waking to him curled around her, leg thrown over hers.

She places her arm over his and shifts so she can burrow against his chest and cradle him back. Smiles as he mumbles happily and turns, pulling her along with him so her torso is resting on his chest.

“So you finally woke up,” He grumbles, and she laughs. Looks up to meet his eyes while she slithers just a little closer. Enjoying the solid feel of him underneath her, happy to feel his heart pattering healthy under his rib cage.

“I was in this place with all this light. And there were little orbs that giggled and tickled when I touched them. They sounded like children.”

He smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Good. That means they made it to the other side.”

“They?”

He takes a deep breath, “My souls. The ones that were damaged because I didn’t take care of them. Grandfather helped them pass. You must have gone toward the light and found their reborn spirits.”

“I can do that?”

He shrugs, “Makes sense that I can go to the void. Why couldn’t you see the spirits of the reborn that reside in you?”

She sits up a little at this revelation, thinking back to how that little orb felt when it touched her finger. How happy and content it had been. How innocent. And that had been one of the souls that clawed and scraped at Ben’s heart but seconds before?

Feels a little spark of terror, “Does that mean I can get sick like you were? Can I get pulled into that void if those spirits get sick?”

“No, Rey. You can’t.” Shifts so he can press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve never heard of an angel going to the void and turning wraith.”

She feels the anxiety leave her, melts back into him as he hugs her close. Allows a comfortable silence to all between them as she thinks about what she saw and felt, and how it is to have him back. Healthy from what she can tell.

Can feel a lightness in his soul that was not there before.

“Where is everyone?” She manages sometime later when her eyes are closed and she is trying to listen to the world past the beating of his heart.

“Grandfather insisted I stay so we can watch over me. But he ran everyone else off. He doesn’t suffer people very well, even his own family. Mom wasn't too happy about that.”

“She doesn't trust him.”

Ben shifts under her as he contemplates his next words, “Its a bit more complicated. If she didn’t trust him I wouldn’t be here. It is more that she doesn't’ trust herself around him. He brings out the worst in her. At least that is how she always explains it - and from what I have seen it is true.”

“Luke doesn’t seem to have the same issue.”

Ben snorts at that, “Luke was the one to save him from himself all those years ago. Grandfather likes to say Luke got more of his mother and Leia got more of him. So I think Luke is more sympathetic. Mom is too afraid she can become him.”

Rey thinks back to how Anakin had been so intense and protective over Ben. How Leia had been much the same, though more charming about it. Perhaps sneakier about it. How it had taken all of her family to convince Leia to even allow the thought of Rey being Ben’s mate. How Leia had deceivingly taken her to her family estate to see that she was, in fact, a Kenobi. How she hasn’t quite looked at Rey the same since learning her blood is shared with Alexander Snoke.

Thinks she understands what Ben means when he says that Leia is too similar to Anakin. How she has her father’s intensity.

“You certainly took after them, didn’t you?”

“Hmm,” He hums into her hair.

“Your intensity. You inherited that from them.”

He looks down at her and meets her eyes. She watches as a flush spreads across his cheeks.

“I used to be even more intense. Much angrier. And my family, if you haven’t noticed, has a gift for making others feel as they do. Luke projects calm, mom an intense charm, my grandfather pain and sadness. Anger, too. I did, too, for the longest time.”

“But not now.”

He gives her a sideways grin, one that makes his eyes light up.

“At least not at the moment.”

She smirks back, reaches out a hand to twirl some of his curls around a finger.

“In fact,” He shifts, pulling her closer so their faces are almost touching. And her eyes flicker down to his lips, which look perfectly kissable at the moment, “If I was to project now, I imagine it would be pure contentment.”

“Is that so?”

He gently bops her nose with his own.

“I thought it might be something else.”

He smirks and then tips his head to the side. She feels that little tremor run down her back at the heat in his eyes. At the knowledge that he is thinking the same thing she is at the moment - that he is feeling this need to touch just as she is.

“Definitely that, too.”

It is as warm as she imagined. Not searing, or aching, but accepting. His lips are soft and press so lightly against her own. Until they part and she feels his tongue gently glide along her lower lip, tracing and making little tingles dance along her spine. It stops just at space between her lips, seeking permission before she willingly parts.

Their tongues meet in a slow dance that is more about getting to know each other than it is about passion. They slip against each other, then flit away until they have established a sort of dance. Only then does it deepen. Lips press harder against one another, tongues plundering. And she groans against him as he tugs her closer, aligning their bodies so she can sit on his chest and let her legs part to either side of him. As their tongues glide more insistently against each other.

Then hands are in hair and running through locks. They gently pull and tug, shifting their angels and moaning into each other's mouths. Until they break apart with heavy breaths. His eyes are all dark now, devoured by his pupils. And they pause for this moment, just letting their fingers twine in each other's hair and thumbs to caress jawlines.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, cheeks ruddy.

She smiles, tilting to press the tip of her nose to his. Feels her own cheeks flush in answer. There is more to this than a simple bout of sex. They’ve been dancing around this for days, like circling wolves. And if they take this plunge it won’t be something either of them will return from unscarred. Somehow, that little part of her soul that is screaming at her to hold and touch him is also letting her know that she won’t come out the other end the same.

He won’t either.

Knows it is probably worse for him, this man that has grown up with the knowledge that he was born with half a soul. That he is not whole until it is found, and that he was one of the lucky ones that did find his. And to have her give him a taste of what they could be, and then to walk away. He had more on the line than her. Was willing to take on that pain for the possibility of what it could be, even if the ball was resting in her court.

“Are you?” She tosses back.

Sees the resolve in his eyes, “I have never been so sure of something.”

Knows her resolve matches his when her words come out of her mouth, “Then show me what we can be.”

And that is all it takes. This agreement between them. And she feels her heart flutter and give pause as he flips them over, pressing her to the mattress with his weight as their lips meet again, far more passionate this time. Searing.

This time it is his mouth that parts to her tongue, allowing her to delve in and groaning when she sucks his lower lip between her teeth. Breathing becomes heavy and harsh, wild and unbridled. A low growl that emits that makes her mouth vibrate and she feels her body shudder at the feeling. She tugs on his hair, making him press more of his weight on her, wanting more. This is what she has been aching for all these days. Groans as the mattress whines at the shift of her parting her legs further so he can rest between them more comfortably.

Latches her legs behind his back so she can pull him closer.

Because close will never be enough.

He shifts so his elbow is holding half of him up while his other hand starts to slip under the hem of her shirt. His palm and fingers splay over her stomach, inching up and up until they slip under her bra and encase her right breast. Cup it while he pulls away from their kiss and shifts to whisper in her ear.

“I want to be with you before the heat. To do this the way we both know before -”

She sucks in a breath, “Before a heat changes it all.”

He turns his head to meet her gaze, “Because it will be different, Rey. There is -”

And she reaches over to grab his face, gripping both of his cheeks and nods.

“I heard you suggest that enough to know it's going to be different. You can tell me how later. But it isn’t going to be different right now, is it?”

He shakes his head.

Then she nods, “That is what matters right now. We can worry about the rest later.”

He takes a deep breath like he wants to continue this conversation. But she has had enough change for the last couple of days to last a lifetime. She just needs to feel him right now, to let his heat chase away the cold that she didn’t know she had grown used to. She needs to fill herself with some of that darkness, to be closer so he is in her skin and they are bound long enough for them to form a rhythm that is their own.

Knows her mind won’t let her think of anything but him right now, and how good his tongue feels in her mouth. How she loves the press of his weight against her. Knows she needs more, more, more.

So she kisses him, pressing her entire body along the length of him before pulling him back down so his protests die on her lips. And she doesn’t stop until she feels the tension leave his shoulders and that hand on her breast gently squeeze before brushing just right against her nipple.

And when he groans, his hips tipping into hers so she feels him pressed right against her core, just where he should be, she knows she can let go and let her hands slide under his shirt and up his chest.

She grinds back against him, and he hisses, snapping his hips back again. She keens at the feel of his confined length adding pressure to the apex of her thighs, at the zing that results when her clit gets a little stimulation. Starts to rub against him for more, hips moving erratically. His hand presses against her breast more wontly, kneading harshly as he licks along her ear shell and lets the tip of his tongue dart in briefly.

It's getting intense fast, both of their hips snapping and grinding with a fever she has never really felt. Other than the time she imagined she was with him, her own hand working to uncoil this similar tension. And she has been with other men, but their hips don’t snap with the intensity that his are showing. Nor did they make her so wantonly grind heavily against them in search of zings that make her back threaten to bend.

Rutting.

The word flashes into her mind as he presses down into her hard and fast before pulling back and making her hips snap. And she groans, eyes falling closed as she hangs on.

They are rutting against each other.

Its the only word to describe the difference between what is happening now and what she has had in the past. This driving need. This wild press of sex to sex. Only knows it has to be better with him inside slapping his hips into hers.

“Clothing off,” He growls into her ear. It doesn’t sound like his normal tone. Instead, it is deep and rumbling. She feels her response as her hands shift to follow his command, as her legs part a little to make more room for him, as her core tingles and grows wetter.

“Yes, alpha,” The words pull from somewhere deep inside. Another of those instincts that creep up. But the intensity at which he suddenly grips her, hand falling to her hip and the harsh resulting thrust against her clit lets her know he liked that.

“Oh fuck,” He hisses into her ear, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Is that a -”

“Yes.” He groans, pressing his lips into her shoulder as another thrust takes him. And suddenly she is aware that he is not fully in control of his movements. That his instincts are taking over his control.

“Its one of those…Just I really like that. But it's going to make things a little more -”

“Its a rut, isn’t it? It's starting.”

He pulls back then, meeting her eyes. Though his grip on her hip doesn’t lessen and his hips still snap into her making them both hiss.

“Yeah, or at least the start of it. We are getting closer…”

“Does that mean I am…”

He nods.

“Now?”

“Not fully, I don’t think. But close.”

Swallowing hard, she presses her hands to his chest and pushes. And for a moment he looks wild, and she can feel the fingermarks against her hip. Hears a little voice that sounds like a soft version of his flickering in the back of her mind.

_Please don’t push me away. I don’t think I can take it if you push me away._

Chuckles a bit, and gives him in a little hit on the chest with her palm.

“I’m not going anywhere, I just need to get my clothes off right now.”

Sees him relax as he lifts off her and sits back to give her space. He watches every move as she pulls her shirt over her head. Licks his lips when she unhooks her bra and tosses it off to the side. Murmurs in appreciation as her hands fall to her pants and undo the button and the sound of her zipper fills the heaviness of the room.

He growls then, leaning forward so his hands slip under the fabric at her hips and help her roll them down. Lets his fingertips drift over her skin while she tugs one leg through, smiling when he catches it and lets his hand slink right back up her naked to the apex of her thigh before helping with the other leg.

When the pants are off, he tosses them to the pile of her growing clothing and holds her leg, letting his hand press into the arch of her foot until she groans. Then he is skimming up along her calf, until he reaches her knee and then bends it slightly, pressing his lips to the juncture. And she didn’t know that was such a sensitive spot, not until she feels the touch and her hips jerk wildly.

He grins, flinging the leg up to his shoulder to make it easier for him to trace her inner thigh. His hand sits right at her panty line. And then he does something that simultaneously makes her cheeks heat in embarrassment and her walls twitch. He presses the finger against her soaked core, running it along and then bringing it right up to his nose. Takes a deep inhale and then meets her eyes.

“You are soaked.”

She squirms under the look that passes over, like a shadow of possession. Squeals as he grabs both of her hips and pulls her into his lap so her clothed core is at a better angle.

“So close,” He murmurs, and she knows it is more to himself. Though it clicks in her mind what he means. Its part of her heat, apparently, this wetness that seems to seep out with every ministration. More so than in the past.

“Ben, you are creeping me out.”

And that snaps him out, his cheeks going bright red. And he pushes her back to the bed, back to her previous position.

“Sorry - it's just.”

“I know,” She smiles and then lifts a leg to press it against his chest. “But if I am going to get ogled, I want to be able to do the same to you. So clothing off.”

He chuckles at that, some of the embarrassment leaving his cheeks while he lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it. She takes a gulp at the sight. She knew he was built. Those shoulders and arms she saw peaking out from shirts, the prominence of his biceps. But he is ripped. All the way down to his well-defined v of the hips that leads down to where his hands are snapping the button undone on his pants.

She shifts as he rolls his pants over his hips, taking his boxers with him at the same time and presenting her with her first view of what she assumed would match the rest of his anatomy. And it does, angry tip and all hanging heavily as he slips out of his pants before meeting her gaze.

Her entire face is heated when she meets his eyes, one eyebrow raised with a little quirk to his lips. An almost laugh at her response as she wrinkles her nose before reaching up to grab his shoulders and pull him down.

They have been apart too long.

There is a change to the scent in the air, a violent spike that follows as their bodies align and he slips along her outer folds and gives friction to her clit. They both groan, inhaling deeply. And she can feel it, the promise in that smell - a promise of belonging and need to give excellent care.

His hand is back on her breast, squeezing while he lets her grind along his length. But it is only there for a second as his head falls to her shoulder and his hand is back on that hip again, the one she is sure he bruised earlier. Gripping as his hips snap, and she bows to keep the connection between them.

It's not going to go slow, she knows. The next slip of his hips against hers is more reckless than the last. And her responding jerk is just as frantic. Even as the zings from her clit sing along her nerves, its not enough. Needs more.

They keep this up for a few more thrusts until she is clinging and both of his hands are on her hips and his entire weight is pressing her to the mattress as he thrusts along her folds. So hard he is shifting both of them along the sheets and further up the bed.

“Rey, it's not -”

“I know, go ahead.”

“I can’t really -”

“Trust me, I need it.” And she slings her arms around his neck and holds on as he shifts to gather himself. There is a second where he is moving both of them, one where everything feels heavy and strange. And it doesn’t let up when she feels the press of his tip against her entrance, even as he snaps his hips and he sinks, inch by inch into her folds. She stretches, filling her with warmth and heat. Makes her hiss and her legs hold tighter until he is situated.

And she, unable to keep herself from it, bucks up against him.

After that its a blur of hips and wet smacks, as his hips pull back just till his tip feels like it is going to pop out, and then down he goes, driving her into the mattress so it protests. Then again he is slipping back through, almost out, and then slipping right back in. It takes a second for her thrusts to meet his, but once they do suddenly it is speeding up. Wildly they press against each other, hips meeting and parting while he slips in and out. Pressing up and into her until he hits that little wall that blooms with a hint of pain but a pressure of pleasure. Until that little spot in her is gorged and zinging with each thrust.

Back and forth, up and up, and then out. Fast. Hard. Delicious pounding that has her arching and crying out as they snap together.

Room filled with the heady scent of their sexes and pheromones, as well as the smacks of their flesh against each other. The complaints of the bed for this torture.

At some point she has one hand over his back, hanging on for dear life while he fucks wildly into her. The other rests on the bed, so she can angle better to meet his thrusts. Wild and untampered. His head is buried in her shoulder, hands gripping her hips so hard she knows she will have fingernail marks. Feels them briefly pierce her skin before the little hint of pain bleeds away with another resulting zing from the cant of his hips.

Groans as he hits that spot again and she sees stars.

“Such a good little angel,” He mutters into her shoulder while she hangs on, trying to cling to bed sheets and finally giving up when she nearly collides with the headboard. Reaches up to grab a slat as he gives a particularly rough thrust that makes her back bow and press against his chest.

“You are so wet, my little omega. So hot. So good.”

Those words, she didn’t think it was possible, make her core clench and she feels another wave of heat and sopping slickness slide through. Knows the bed has to be soaked under them but could care less as his hand engulfs hers on the headboard and hangs on as his hips rut into hers.

And they’ve got a rhythm now. Fast and hard and star inducing. It makes her tighten her legs against his back, makes her press her chest to his. Makes her mouth fall open in groans and moans as he shifts again, lifting her a little so she is almost sitting on his lap and he is snapping into her and down so he can go just a little deeper.

“Oh, please alpha. More, alpha.”

And those words spur him on. He becomes a little wilder, even as he removes himself from her shoulder and sits back a little to watch with hooded eyes as her breast bounce when he thrusts into her, at the way the headboard slams in tune with them on the wall. How his eyes focus on her lips and then fall to where they are joined. And then he is leaning over her, shifting his hand from holding hers on the headboard to grip the top slat. His other hand holds her hip, pulling her back off him and holding her in place while he snaps hard into her heat.

The entire bed screeches, smacking the wall.

And that little spot inside her, the one that has been zinging this entire time, explodes. She feels that careen off the edge, the burst of pure sensation. Her back snaps up, as her toes curl and she grips him tightly as her walls clench. As she feels liquid seep from her core and pool on the sheets. And then she is coming down, shuddering at the intensity pressing her mouth to the juncture of his shoulder and neck so she can hang on while he continues to rut into her.

But her clenching walls must have brought him close because his thrusts are getting jerky and wild. Until he snaps forward so hard her back slams against the headboard and then he stills, mouth open and clenching the wood so hard she hears a brittle snap. Feels a few weak jerks before he is all spent and then falls limply against her.

She shifts so she is sitting against the headboard, lets him slide down so his head is resting against her stomach. Gives a little hum of contentment when her hands press into his curls.

“That was intense,” She says when both of their scents have calmed and their breathing is steady.

“It was.” He chuckles, “But that was just the early stages of a rut and heat. It's going to be a lot more than that.”

He lets her head fall back against the headboard as she draws circles in his hair.

“I think I can handle it.”

He snorts against her belly, pressing a kiss to her skin.

“That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! So what did you think of their first time? Took us long enough, right? And a half rut time at that. In his grandfather's house no less (oh poor Anakin). With them on the verge of a true heat and rut, just how is Ben going to break knotting to Rey before it gets too far along? And just what does a demon/angel heat rut look like anyway?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the smut. More to come in the next chapter as their biology hits them hard. Same time next week? (It's going to be on time this go around. I will that into existence.) <3


	12. A Heat and Rut Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heat and the rut are finally here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A note before you continue:  
>  There will be mentions of miscarriage and stillbirth in this chapter. I don't want to upset anyone, so please tread carefully.**
> 
> Hello, lovelies! Here is the moment you have all been patiently waiting for. Part one of their first heat and rut. I sincerely hope it satisfies. All of you sweeties certainly deserve what I hope is a treat for supporting and kudos(ing) this story. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! 
> 
> And special SHOUT OUT to dust-flower-46 over on tumblr for making a beautiful moodboard for this story; which is the image used for this chapter. Thank you for such a sweet gift! <3

 

 

 

It won’t be long now.

He can feel it, an itch growing at the base of his spine that splinters outward and makes his skin crawl where they don’t touch. And he is feverish, radiating heat like a crackling fire - sputtering and licking in search of the coolness of her skin. And all the place where they meet, like where her thigh is thrown over his waist, it feels like gentle lapping waves. Cool. Reassuring.

And it won’t be long now before he will need to sink into that coolness to temper the heat.

It's happening for her, too. The way her scent spikes and her thighs rub together when she shifts against his side. How she shudders and leans in closer, pressing every inch she can manage as she seeks warmth. The way she has the comforter tucked tightly around all the other exposed parts of herself.

And even though they are on the cusp of it and he is half hard and pressed against the back of her upper thigh; plus the knowledge that any minute now his rut could begin in earnest - he can already feel that little knot at his base tingling in anticipation - he is content to enjoy this momentary silence before the storm.

His fingers rub gentle circles into her scalp, slipping through soft locks while she flips page after page of the little red book resting on his abdomen. Part of him wants his hand to slip lower, to grab her and take her undivided attention, he pushes that need down and lets it simmer. There will be plenty of time for that in the days to come. She needs her time to read and digest the knowledge he has been been privy to since childhood and has been hidden from her. To read the little red book that explains their cycles and heats, the one he suspects Luke surreptitiously left on the dresser before leaving.

And he watches her face change as she skims the words. She has such expressive eyes, and her mouth moves with them. Opening wide in surprise. Narrowing when she finds something to her dislike. And now, at this moment, wrinkling cutely at a particular passage. One that has her looking up at him, and then back down, before glancing back up with a splash of pink on her cheeks. And her mouth falls hinges open and then close, as she tries to find the right words.

“Out with it,” He mumbles, knowing that not talking about it was going to make the next couple of days far more awkward than if they just faced it head-on.

She flushes, but pushes forward, “The knotting thing.”

Now his cheeks have to match the red of hers from the way it rushes from his lower regions to flood his cheeks. And he has to force himself to take a deep breath. To keep his fingers running circles through her hair.

He had known this was coming. Was dreading it above all the rest of the bits and oddities of their coupling. Because this was the anatomical part that was different, the one that could make things very, strange, for them both. He’s always been aware of the existence of that little bump at the base of his penis, especially aware during his maturing years. Knows well that it is sensitive, perhaps as much as the tip even when he isn’t with a mate and it isn’t aroused. But its never so much as done anything but exist until now. Now it is zinging, especially after that bout of sex with Rey just a half hour ago. During that it sent tingles up and down his spine, igniting to glorious heights as it flooded his body with the need to ram into her. Even as he tried to fight the rut it rang through his body. Even felt it tickle as he came spurting into her as if it was just readying for what is to come.

“It only happens during a rut,” He pauses, shifting his hand behind his head and hoping he seems causal about it. Because he feels anything but casual.

“So you’ve never experienced it before,” She lays the book down, giving him her full attention. And he feels that new little part of him, the one that makes him want to puff out his chest and press his nose against that little bump at the back of the neck, preen. _Thats right, little omega. Give me all your attention._

“No,” He swallows, pushing down that thought, “I’ve only ever been with humans. Two demons. Knots only occur between angels and demons during heats, and even then it is between soulmates. Its the only way for our kind to have children.”

She tilts her head at that, “So you can have all the sex you want and not have to worry about impregnating someone as long as you are not in a rut and they aren't in a heat.”

He shrugs, “And they aren’t you.”

And the words hang in the air, heavy, as their eyes meet. And its out there now, that acknowledgment of what they are to each other. It's strange to hear it out loud, not just exchanged through looks and expressions. But casual and factual.

To his relief, she wrinkles her nose and then shifts so she slides a little further up his body. And a wicked little tug on her lips makes his mouth go dry.

“So I could have all the sex I want and not have kiddos unless I’m in a heat and a rut with you?”

And his hands, without his permission, find their way to her waist, caging her in his arms and against his chest. He feels the rumble of his words, deep in his chest and feels her shudder against him as they growl out.

“Yes, little omega. This is exactly what it means.” He his hands up her sides, and then back down, before pressing hard into the flesh of her ass and shifting her so she is sprawled across him, laying across the expanse of his skin. And he tugs the comforter around her, lets it settle around them both while he hugs her close.

“Mine to mate,” He whispers into her hair, possessively hanging on. And having her this close, wrapped only in his arms makes his body slowly settle back to calm. Though he feels a little spur of fear that this need to hold her, this possessiveness is too much. Especially when she shifts against him and starts to try and turn.

He grumbles at it, but she pinches his skin along his bicep and he lets out a little whelp.

“You do realize you could crush my bones if you wanted,” She grumbles back, and he lessens his grip a smidgen.

“Sorry, the possessiveness is really starting to kick in.”

She nuzzles against his chest and he feels the little shake of her chest that means she is holding in a laugh. “No kidding.”

A soft silence stretches across them, and he is just about to slip off into a contented sleep when she speaks.

“If we mate,” She takes a deep breath, “It says there is a near perfect chance of us conceiving.”

There is trepidation in her words, and he feels his heart constrict at the thought. That little spike of fear.

“Maz took care of that. The potions she left for us ensure we don’t.”

Feels her sigh of relief, “Not ready for that responsibility.”

And gods, he isn’t either. But you can’t stop a heat or a rut, especially the first. And he just hopes that Maz’s concoctions are always as spot on as they have been in the past. Because he is just coming to terms with having another person in his life - a mate. Adding in a kid…he can only take so much change at the moment.

But then comes another question, one that he had not prepared for. The question that makes his heart freeze mid-beat.

“Then how come you don’t have any siblings? You said that Luke would take you out of the house when their heat and rut started. And the chance of conceiving is so high -”

He thinks back to those moments when he would come back from the camping trips that followed his parent’s cycle. How his father would be gone and Leia would be tucked away behind some door buried in her work. How his parents wouldn’t speak for months, or near a year until their heat would bring them crashing back together. How they would look at Ben for days after, eyes so full of a mix of wonder and misery. A horrible concoction produced by the loss of so many possibilities. And he pulls Rey a little closer, both for comfort and to suppress the anger that starts to swell in his chest at the thought of those childhood moments.

“They did conceive. Every time. Or at least close to it.”

He feels her go rigid under him, reading the full weight of his implication from the crispness of his voice.

“Miscarriages,” She whispers.

“I was conceived during their first heat, right before the war ended. During that time, before I was born, my mother was shot. Han made the choice to give up some of his light to save ours. To keep us alive he had my mother consume part of his light.”

Hears her little gasp at those words, “But you said that makes -”

“You haven’t seen my mother at full strength. My family is already an unusually gifted family. But to have part of her partner’s light, it is why they have been left alone, Rey. Why they are allowed to exist as one of the only true bonded couples. Why I was allowed to be born. Because no one would, unless they were an idiot, contest the power of Anakin’s daughter. Or a female alpha demon. Or a female alpha demon, with a child to protect, with a quarter of her husband’s light to fuel her power. I don’t know another demon alive more powerful than that mix of powers and instincts.”

“And the other quarter, that is in you?”

He sighs, “Not like it is my mom, but yes. And it causes some tension that other demons do not contend with. It makes for a conflicted nature, as my father likes to say.”

She slides up his chest, mouth drawn in sympathy.

“And because he gave up his light, they couldn’t have children?”

He nods, “It makes it much harder for him to pull a soul from the void, especially the soul of one of our kind. So all of their children after me, my would be brothers and sisters, they were all stillborn.”

The words are bitter on his tongue. All the destruction that caused his family. How he was their miracle child, and how keeping him alive had taken from them the ability to bring more light into the world. How he knows his mother longed to bring a least one angel back from the void. How she failed. How she still fails.

Rey plants a soft kiss against his chest, just over his heart. And then she weaves her fingers through one of his, the one that has fallen from her hip.

“I would have done the same, were I in Han’s shoes. And I am glad he did, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. And I suppose that would have left me adrift in this world chasing that sense of belonging that I never would know exists.”

And presses a kiss to the top of his hand.

He smiles in wonder down at her, at the way her eyes light up in resolve. At the way, their heartbeats start to mingle as if her acceptance at that moment had brought them closer.

“So, if there are no couples, that means there are lots of souls waiting in the void to be reborn? And they can’t. Doesn’t that mean the cosmos is out of balance?”

He nods, “It has been for a very long time.”

She takes a moment to digest that, mouth twitching, “So does that mean we are probably going to have a lot of heats to make up for all those that no one else has been able to have - to bring balance back?”

He nearly chokes, both on the humor and implication in her words, and the realization of how true it probably is. Feels a little panic at that thought, knows it is echoed in her at the realization they just might become the brood mares for the cosmos. Has to take a steadying breath.

And he pulls her closer, tucking her under his chin.

“I can’t pretend to know what the cosmos intends. I hope that it isn’t all we are meant for. But I won’t complain if that means we get lots of time together.”

She pinches his side then, making him laugh and he rolls them over so he is on top of her. He tosses the book off the bed as they go, just before settling between her legs and using the weight of his lower body to pin her to the bed. Smirks as he presses insistently against her folds and watches as her eyes darken.

She is the most beautiful thing, all spread out like this under him. So pliant and welcoming. So soothing to the heat that is licking at his flesh. Inhales her scent deeply, feeling the complexities of it mingling with his and calling to some well of instinct that has him gently rolling himself against her soothing core.

“Especially if it is going to feel this way every time,” He mumbles as he dips his head down to capture her in a kiss before he slips inside.

And everything else falls away but the zings between them and the little tingles of his knot that promise better things for the days to come.

———

“Hey, Grandpa!” Ben clambers into the living room, eyes scanning for any sign of Anakin. But there isn’t the usual knocking around in the kitchen at the crack of dawn. Or the sputter of the ancient coffee maker preparing a pot he remembers from childhood. Nor is there a lanky figure leaning back in a chair at the table by the window, book open to a page that is never read. A face that stares straight ahead into the empty air above the chair just across, eyes glazed and mouth quirked battle of emotions that flit between immense sadness and happiness. A seat that sometimes, if Ben is willing to call on some of his inner power, will hold the outline of a petite little woman smiling back at his grandfather. And sometime he can see her reach over the table to meet Anakin’s extended hand, corporeal fingers slipping through living flesh.

But there is no sign of Anakin. No cup of coffee. No book. No sign of his grandfather and the routine that defines his life.

Nor is Anakin standing on the back porch, hands behind his back while he communes with the land around him. While he whispers to the snow and the trees and ruminates in the cosmos. Hours upon hours until he manages to gather enough energy to see his dead wife nearly made flesh. Before she dissipates seconds later after pressing a palm to his cheek.

A man perpetually stuck in a limbo of life and death; loss and longing.

Ben has witnessed this same routine, day in and out, for weeks as a child. Watched as the only thing to break it was when he would turn to pluck a much smaller Ben off the floor into his arms and drag him out into the woods. Or when he would push back all the furniture so they could practice spell work after Ben begged for hours the night before.

A man that even as his mother cast him out from the family estate has always been there when Ben needed him.

“Grandpa?” He calls out again, even sticks his head in the master bedroom and sees nothing but clean pressed sheets.

Walks over to the coffee maker and sees half a pot gone.

“Don’t see him?” Rey asks, walking slowly into the kitchen and leaning against the butcher block table that acts as an island. Gives him a smile when his eyes coast down her collarbone, her sternum, and rest on the peaks of her breasts that peak out from the top of her shirt. The only sign that she notices his gaze is the light blush that darkens her cheeks and makes her freckles pop off the canvas of her skin.

“No. And its weird for him. He is usually very strict about his routine.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, and he shrugs, not wanting to go too far into the complex history surrounding his grandfather. “Long story, but if he doesn’t complete his morning ritual then he can’t pull my grandmother’s soul out of death long enough to say good morning to her.”

Rey’s brow knits at that, mouth falling open in a little ‘o’. “What? That's possible?”

He shrugs and starts looking around for a note, “Like I said, long story. I don’t even understand half of it. But for him to change his routine…”

And then Rey turns as red as the knit blanket tossed over the back of the ratty couch before the fire. “He must have heard us…”

Ben had thought about that, just before all thoughts of his grandfather flew out the window when Rey pressed her lips to his and pulled them down a path that only gave him one thought to occupy his mind. And then he had briefly thought again as he drifted off into a deep sleep, Rey tucked against him all through the night.

He blushes to the tips of his ears at the thought of his grandfather overhearing.

“Yeah, He definitely heard.”

They sure hadn’t bothered to be quiet about it.

And then his eyes fall on the table where Rey’s fingers are pressed against the wood and sees the little piece of paper, obviously ripped from some book, with a note jotted along the empty page. Walks over to the island and plucks up the note.

Snorts as he reads the words.

_You two lovebirds better not destroy my cabin in your Heat. Food is in the fridge. Don’t make any babies. One troublesome grandson is enough for now._

Rey slinks over and slides her hands around his waist, eyes peering at the note. Feels her grip tighten.

“Oh no-” She hisses, “We didn’t just run him out of his house, did we?”

“I think we did,” He laughs as he drops the note onto the table, “But it looks like we have the cabin all to ourselves.”

And his hands slide over hers, smiles as their fingers weave together and the heat in his veins dulls to a warmth that is far more manageable than the inferno that usually boils underneath the skin.

Feels his skin prickle and trickle down his spine like a ghostly finger has pressed to his nerves. Feels it pool in his groin and hisses at the feeling. At the tug of his core that has his blood singing and his skin turning to gooseflesh. Makes his fingers press right into hers. Feels her responding hiss as she rubs her cheek along the skin of his back, pressing her nose along his shoulder blade. If she was just a hint taller, or if he just bent a little she could do that to the spot just a foot away…

And he catches the spike of her scent in the air, how the sweetness clings to his nostrils and how everything seems to suddenly feel like too much. The sound of the wind outside, the brightness of the dim lights in the kitchen. How the fire is spitting loudly in the fireplace. How everything else is heightened and intense.

And how intensely aware of Rey he is. Like she is shining beacon pressing against his skin, needs to feel her burrowed inside. Needs to burrow inside her and let the world outside slip away. Let all the other sounds drift and he can just get lost in her.

Grips the table harder as another wave of need flashes through his veins and Rey presses closer to him. Her lips flickering over his skin, before she very gently nips him right on the skin over the rib. And he snaps forward at that, hands making the wood of the table groan at the feeling. That delicious feeling of that sensitive skin and her teeth gently pressing to it.

Feels the air around them vibrating like a coiled string. Tight little crest and troughs make glass rattle and metal sing as she lathes her tongue over the spot.

“Rey…” He grumbles out, feeling the tightness against his pants. Knowing the way his hips are slowly starting to snap and the way everything is feeling both hot and cold, the way her scent smells, that they are right on the cusp of this.

“It's starting, isn’t it?” She says lowly as she presses a cheek to his back and hugs him tighter.

He gulps and nods, “Yeah. I can feel it.”

She turns him around then, leaning back a little to look into his face, to meet his gaze. Reaches up, forcing his length to press along her stomach and creating a friction that makes him wince as he tries to stop rocking his hips against her. Lets a little whimper escape as her hand pushes back some of his hair and warm eyes follow the movement before meeting his gaze and giving a small smile.

“So you first, huh?”

He wants to apologize for how his blood is screaming for him to press her to the table and just plow into her. How his fingers are going white from gripping the table so hard. Even as his hips jerk forward despite his efforts, and his skin feels like licking flames. Grab her and never let go. To hold her tighter than anything, until she melds into him and they snap together and never come undone.

“Guess it is going to go by the book,” He mumbles, cheeks heating.

And she sighs, dropping her hand to his chest so it rests right on his heart.

“And here I thought it was always supposed to be ladies first,” She smirks, and he can’t help but give a chuckle at that. Even though it makes everything tingle even more. Even as his entire body protests the feeling.

“You should file a letter of complaint, then,” He grumbles, and feels her braless chest jiggle against his chest as she laughs. Feels his insides twist and turn, and grips the table even harder to keep from just grabbing her and bending her over one of the cabinets, slamming into her roughly like he really wants to do. Buried deep and lost in her coolness.

Hears a little cracking noise and doesn’t need to look down at his grip to know some of the butcher block table is giving under his grip.

“I don’t think it would be good to break his table,” She mutters and then her hand is over his and prying it off the wood while she holds his gaze and places his hand on her hip. Grabs the other hand and presses his hand to the other side of her. Then lifts her hands to his face and cups him.

“Do what you need to do,” She smiles up at him, presses herself closer, “I have a feeling I won’t protest.”

And that's all it takes. Like a little string inside him snapping, he bends down and presses his mouth to her collarbone while his hands press hard into her hips. And he thinks his talons have extended, thinks they are pressing to the skin of her hips and digging in a little if the little hiss she produces is any sign. But she is pressing hard against him, and a second later her hands are over his neck and she is pulling him against her.

And there is only one thing he needs. Those breasts that are pressed don’t hold a candle to the need that is forcing his hips forward, that is making his blood feel like liquid fire. Presses his nose at the base of her neck and inhales, rubs it against the two glands he knows are there and then licks. Feels her go rigid for a second before she melts and groans into his hair. Fingers slip through his locks and down to the spot his neck meets his shoulders, where that gland that has cursed him all his life ignites. Where her little fingers, all slow and luxurious, rub circles against it and make electricity charge down his spine and his member. Leaves a trail of tingles through his nerve endings that sing at any touch, all the way down to his toes.

Rocks into her stomach again as a need surges through him.

And it's not warm enough like this, not right. So he grunts as he slips his hands to cup her ass and then lifts her with a squeak so her legs have to curl around his back. And that is far better, as his shaft slips into the dip of her thighs and presses to that spot. So close and right. As she gives a little grind that makes him see stars.

And she is seeping through her underwear. He can feel the wetness through his own sweatpants. Smells her stronger than he had before, her sex pressing and rubbing against his in such a delicious way that is nowhere near enough.

His talons dig into the flesh of her ass, holding her to him while he turns them. Lets her rub against him a few times before dropping her to the island table.

She falls back, legs unclenching from his back and his eyes take in the sight of her on the island, hair a tangled mess splayed over the wood. Eyes wide and dark with need, mouth swollen from where she has been biting her lip. Mutters as her tongue slips over the flesh there at the sight of him leaning over her, licking her lips. Inviting. How she gasps when his hand slips over her hip and grabs the thin cotton of her underwear and snaps the threads like they are spiderwebs.

He barely registers that his hand is half turned, half black, but Rey doesn’t seem to mind, even as he slips it under her shirt and presses her stomach down to the table so she can't move. She squirms though, and he catches the scent of more slick, watches as her sex leaks more and his eyes go wide. But he doesn’t have a second to think about how she likes that - his practically turned hand holding her to the table before he his slipping his other hand over his pants to push them down.

His hips cant into the air until his pants are pooled at his ankles. And then that hand is falling to his dick to guide it to her entrance. Presses the tip and hisses at the wetness. At the coolness the promises to quench his flames. Groans as she pushes forward a bit and in his tip sinks.

She is so tight. Even as his thrust pushes him deep and deeper and lathers him in a coolness that has him groaning like a heated metal rod dipped in ice water. And she is wrapping around him and squeezing so deliciously he doesn’t see anything for a second. Just feels the ringing in his ears and the heavenly cushion of flesh around his member. At the slick that gathers on his balls that press against her swollen flesh.

He barely has time to adjust, or a second to really revel in the feeling before his hips are pulling back and he is slipping past folds in a haste for near exit. Groaning at the friction of it. Nearly comes out, the tip just barely staying inside before he is thrusting in again hard and fast, sinking into the hilt and hitting that barrier that is so deep inside. The one that makes her growl and her hips jerk a bit. And he only has a part of a second to enjoy being settled between her, deep, before he is pulling back again.

And his hand comes off her hip as her legs curl around his back, opening her up more and giving his eyes a moment to roll back in his head while his hand grabs the other end of the table, just above her head. And he rolls into her again, harsh and unrepentant. Back hunched as he ruts hard enough to make her ass slam against the table. Again. And again.

He is leaning all the way over her now, the peaks of her breasts nearly touching his chest through the fabric of the shirt she borrowed. The one that smells like him and that thought has his hips speeding up. Sets a punishing rhythm that makes him howl each time he pounds into that deep part inside her. That makes his breath hitch when he nearly pulls out only to start all over again.

Groans at the rippling of the muscles of her stomach as she moves to meet his thrusts. As his large hand spans her and he swears he can feel himself bottoming out inside her. Knows that is probably just his sex-addled mind, but the thought of it. Of being able to feel himself inside her like that, makes his mouth water and his face contort as he gets a very generous zing that makes his balls ache.

And he has to pull that hand away before he gets another of those intense zaps before he goes crashing to the floor because now he is really pounding into her, so loud it is echoing off the walls as their slick meet. As his balls slap against her ass and sex. As he grounds down and into her now, again, and down. Smack. Smack. Smack.

And it takes her a second to catch on, instincts kicking in as she starts to meet his harsh thrusts and her breathing is coming in shorter hitches and grunts that making a song that is all hers. As she throws one arm over his neck and almost sits up, other hand falling on his that grips the table so she meets his thrusts as he pounds her to the table.

And this is the perfect angle, this way that she is hanging off him and panting at the same speed he is. The way her eyes are glazing over and her fingers, no, claws are digging into the flesh of his back. And when those fingers of hers travel up and up, and then dig into that gland at the tip of spine.

He thinks he hears something shatter, but keeps going. Doesn’t think the house falling in around them would stop him. Even as he grips the edge of the table harder, keeping it from sliding across the kitchen while he thrusts. And he is pretty sure he is pulling the table forward with every dive back into her cunt, knows it is protesting as it snaps and buckles. But he keeps pushing through.

And though he is pushing down, slipping through the slickness that is coating his thighs and dripping to the floor from their mating, he feels his body is going up and up. Feels the coil inside his stomach, groans against it and pushes down and down to make himself get closer and higher to that zing and that tip that will toss him over the edge.

Grips harder as his balls start to draw up, and more than that, the base of himself starting to swell. Feels her breath catch and she pulls him closer. Hands drift to his ass and pull him, so that little knot that is starting to swell pops right inside and starts to lock as it grows and grows. He tries to continue thrusting into her, even though he doesn’t go anywhere. But when he tries to pull out, feels her snap in right around him and that knot gets a zing, his entire body goes rigid just as she clamps down around him and spasms. Her voice loud and keening as she clings, eyes rolling back in her head. And his hands still on the table, even as his hips continue to gently rock though he is going nowhere, not as his seed spills forward and into her, spurting. And he knows there will be ribbons of it. Filling and filling, groaning as his hips slowly stop, and his arms nearly collapse him on top of her. Growls into her collarbone as another ribbon rips through his shaft and a spasm overtakes his body.

It's both heavenly and the strangest sensation of his life. But when Rey wraps around him, arms and legs hugging him. He doesn’t want to ever not do this.

She is bending her back, pressing every inch of her skin she can muster to him. Shifting the angle of him inside and making him hit at a different angle that makes both of them hiss from over stimulation.

“Oh, gods, Ben,” She mumbles, “I thought it was going to hurt.”

He manages to shift so he can look down at her, even as he contorts from another wave.

“Did it? I am so…”

And she laughs, letting her fingers weave through his hair and then pulls him down to meet her mouth. It's more of a wet peck than it is anything else, not as they both gasp at another twitch of him inside. And he sees her eyes glaze over just a bit.

“Yes.” And he almost starts to sit up, but he is glued to her, and she has a vice grip on him. “But in the best way.”

And then she is pressing a kiss to his nose before she buries her head in his shoulder and bites down on his collarbone as she shifts her hips a little and he gives another twitch.

He groans, feels his legs shake as he tries to thrust again.

“Ten minutes of this,” She hisses and groans as she tries desperately to make him move inside her. “I can’t seem to stop bouncing between wanting more or to just stay this way. And gods I just want to move. I want you to move.”

He laughs, pressing back some of her hair and growls a bit as he rubs against her. His knot is beyond swollen, still leaking and spurting into her, but his hips keep wanting to move. To go deeper and deeper. To do more. And it's a horrible stalemate, this cliff of climax and this need to lead up to another one. Groans as Rey rubs against him.

Can tell she is having the same problem, and though he can’t do much for himself he knows he can help her out. At the whimpers, at the way she is hissing and her mouth is open. At the way her skin is so cold he thinks it could freeze him should he touch it.

Her heat rising to meet his rut.

“It's here,” He grunts into her hair, holding her against his shoulder as another wave hits. And she whimpers, nodding.

“Its so cold,” She whispers, fingers digging into his skin. “I want you closer.”

And he can’t imagine what closer will be if she doesn’t burrow herself into his skin. But he does the only thing he can think of and pulls back from the table with her knotted to him until he manages to walk them over to the couch. He thinks about tossing himself down, letting her spread across the top of him, but his mind rebels at that thought. And he presses her down, settling his weight against her even as their hips jerk a little in little movements that make them both grunt.

Grabs the blanket that is tossed over the back of the couch and pulls it over them while he settles on top, unable to keep himself from letting all his weight settle over her and press her to the aged cushions. But she welcomes it. Sighs in contentment at the way it finally makes their hips settle and her eyes go wide while her backbends.

A second little, small orgasm making her mouth part before she finally settles back to the couch and wraps her arms around him loosely.

Eventually, he stops rocking into her and just presses his head into the space between her neck and shoulder. Shifts until they are both spooned around each other, and his member slowly deflates though neither pulls away even as all they have done slithers out and onto the cushions below them.

But the smell of it, all of it, is heavenly. Enough to make his heart hammer in his chest as he runs a hand into her core and pulls back a mix of their slick.

Fascinated.

“It wasn’t kidding when it said it would be intense.”

He laughs and nuzzles into her. “And it is just getting started.”

——

“I’m so cold, Ben,” She mutters under him, wrapping as much of herself around him as she can manage with his weight limiting her movements. And her hand, with those fingers that his flames chase, slide up to his mating gland and press against it, making his blood quicken. Make is hips jerk into her and the springs of the couch protest.

He nuzzles his head against her shoulder and inhales deeply as his hand slides along her hip. Groans as she pulls at him so their mouths are pressed and he slips his tongue through parted lips before nipping at a bottom lip. Grinds slowly into her while he explores her mouth, grunting as one of her hands grabs his ass and insistently presses him downward.

She is slicker than she had been their first round of rut, far wetter. Her heat kicking in and making her skin feel like the crispness of ice. Bitting. But heavenly against his raging fever. Loves how when their sexes meet he is pillowed in a coolness that makes his skin ripple. And he pulls back from her mouth, ignoring the trail of spit that follows as he bites down on her collarbone making her cry out.

“Fuck, thats going to leave a mark!” And then he presses her hard against the mattress for those words, instinct kicking in.

“Mine. My little omega.” And its with that deep rumble that is fresh and new to him.

She whimpers underneath, giving, “Yours, alpha.”

And those words make his hands ache as they grip the cushion hard.

“Please, Ben. Its so cold. And its only warm when -“

And he knows exactly what she means, would know even if she hadn’t spelled it out. His heart flutters at the thought, at the feel of her pressed against him. How perfectly he slides along her outer folds, her slick making it so easy to glide along. To rub along her clit and make her keen with a high pitched howl.

“Warmth,” She growls, “more warmth. Please alpha.”

And he can hear the crack in her voice, knows there is a daze to her eyes. And his balls are so heavy, and he is twitching at the words that finally are being called out for him. He isn’t the only one over the brink. They have both tumbled into the full-scale heat and rut that will define their upcoming days.

Feels the rumble in his chest in response to her words. Notes how his fingers dig into her hips when they find them, how without thinking he settles back on his haunches long enough to flip her over so she is face down in the cushions. How she mewls as he positions her as he wants, bent over her knees and ass up. Head pillowed on her arms so her eyes just peer up at him from between them. How she tilts her ass up like a cat in heat.

“Please, Ben. I don’t -“

And he leans over then, pressing his back to hers and letting himself hang between her thighs as he searches for that mating gland on her neck. Pushes back her hair and lets his nose run along it. And she presses hard against him, slick and wet as she whimpers.

“I’ll take good care of you, I promise. I’ve got you my little omega.” He whispers against her skin as he licks at the gland, as his hand grips himself and then presses into her core. Slides right in and bottoms out as he gives one powerful lick to her gland that makes her bend against him and her hands shoot out to grab the armrest.

Makes her press back against him even though he is already deep inside and hisses at the slight give of the wall he hits.

Feels her sigh at the feeling of having that need quenched, at least for a second until she is rutting back against him.

“Please. Oh god, please.”

He grunts and lifts off her, keeping himself settled deep inside and lets his hands fall on her hips. Grips them hard and knows they’ll blossom to bruises soon. But she could care less as he pushes her almost off his length, slowly and long so his eyes nearly roll back in his head. His hips pulling back until he is almost out. Until his tip threatens to come out. And then he is pulling her back to him harsh as he slams forward at the same time. Flesh slapping hard as they meet and both of them growl at the feel of their sexes presses as close as can be for the millisecond that he holds them there, until his hips are drawing back and he is pushing her away.

And it takes a second for the momentum to grab them, each thrust and push and pull getting a little faster until his hips are snapping hard into hers and its all he can feel. The sweet tension in his legs, the odd bend of his back as he presses himself forward into her and brings her down on himself at the same time. A lovely combination of impaling and rutting that has stars dancing before his eyes and has her gripping the armrest to keep from crashing to the cushions below. Her fingers long and white. The exact opposite of his when he is his true form.

Like the hands that clung to him in the shower while he slipped into the heavenly folds of a creature of pure light. And though she is all flesh now, knowing its her under it all.

Gives an off rhythm, wild pump at that which has them both nearly tumbling to the cushions. Though she lets out a curse that sounds an awful lot like fuck more, and has him grabbing the back of the couch for a little more leverage. Canting his hips hard and pulling them both back into that delicious rhythm from before. One that is a mixture of fast and harsh, brink bringing. One that they both match and their hearts speed up to meet and exceed.

Presses as deep into her as he can manage, straining to pull her down further and making her grunt. “Oh, please. Please, alpha.”

And she is starting to bow her back a little, muscles tightening as she is starting to crest. And the feeling of her fluttering around him, makes him let go of the back of the couch and lean over her, that hand gripping the armrest between her own hands as he bends into her, not pulling as far out as before but still nestled deep and hitting that spot that makes her croon. She is hissing under him, panting hard.

“Alpha, please. I need to.”

“What do you need little omega? Say it.”

Wants to hear the dirty little words tumble out of her mouth, to give life to the same desire he has coiling inside. The permission to let go and bring them both diving off the ledge. Feels the anticipation for it making his thrusts stall, perhaps the only thing that ever could - the magic of the force guiding them in the ways of this coupling.

“I need.”

And her hesitation has them both groaning at the need to move again. The frozen state of their being leaving them both shaking and gritting teeth.

“Rey, you need to say it.” He grounds out, fingers digging hard into the flesh of her hip.

Feels her shudder and take a deep breath, knows her cheeks are heated. But the need inside is greater than the humiliation of it.

“I need you to knot me. Cum inside me.”

And the words, even the extra little dirty ones that she added, make the spell break and they both hiss as his hips slam forward into her again and again. With the leverage of the couch, and the speed at which he is rocking into her, the smacking of their flesh and their moans are not the only groans in the room. The springs and wood of the old piece of furniture are starting to match their fervor.

But its not enough. Not now. Chasing that light isn’t done, even as the coil winds a little tighter below his gut.

Slams and slams through folds until his blood is singing and the world is nothing but the flesh before him and the wet crevice that he is sinking into. The drawing up of his balls and the swell of the knot at the base of him. And he tries to hit that spot so deep inside right on so she comes tumbling over him, sopping wet, dripping to the cushions with a groan and drool down her mouth until he is falling forward and gripping the armrests with her, pressing and pressing inward and up into that heat while his teeth press to cool skin and soft pliant flesh. While scent fills his nostrils and her hair clings to the sweat of his brow.

Hands pressed against hers while she numbly follows through his thrusts and ruts, slamming and slamming even as she lets out little grunts and moans, balls so tight and so ready, and his knot starting to grow so hard that he feels when it stretches to place, like the pulling of a string and his thrusts stop just as he cums, gripping the armrest and her fingers hard she cries out with another clench of her cunt around him, milking his length of what he offers while he spurts into her with shallow thrusts that do nothing but push his balls against her flesh but feel heavenly as he pulses inside her. Fills her. Again and again.

And then his hand falls to her waist, to the part of her abdomen that will one day swell with child and lets his hand rest there and rub circles while he holds her against him and lets his cum jet inside. While he hums against her back and she keens against him, head pillowed in her arms and her ass in the air and so full of him that neither can move. Won’t move for at least another ten minutes. Not until his little thrusts die out and his knot deflates and all their slick finally dribbles down her legs to the cushions below.

And when she finally pulls away, legs and arms shaking from holding herself up in this position, his own doing much the same. He grunts and growls, pulling her back against his chest, possessive. And she hisses back, nipping at his arm like some little pup that is unwilling to be held down. So he smirks, laughs and then flattens her to the couch with the full weight of him. Presses her to the cushions and breathes in her hair, weaves his arms in hers and nuzzles even as he feels the slick dribble between them.

“Not going anywhere, little omega.” He mutters as he kisses down her back, “Not leaving.”

“I won’t leave, alpha.” She replies back, shifting under him and canting those hips of hers against his sex. Feels a little tingle again, even in the aftermath and knows it won’t be long before it takes over again. Even in the haze, he is already pressing into her, holding her down.

Keeping what is his in its place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> So here we are, the heat and rut have finally arrived. One half of it still left for the next chapter. Hope this version of alpha/omega is floating all your boats, because I wasn't so sure about it. I feel like instead of it happening all at once they are kind of discovering these dynamics as they go. So probably more commands and alpha/omega in the next round. And please don't forget to let me know what you think either through kudos or by dropping a note. Hearing from you guys is the fuel that keeps me going on this wild ride of a story.


	13. Levitation and Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get interesting during their heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to take a moment to thank ALL of you for your support for this unusual story. Your comments, your kudos - all of it - makes it such a pleasure to write this (and keeps me pushing to keep this baby on schedule). You are the fire for these words, SO THANK YOU!
> 
> This time we have Rey's POV of their heat/rut.

 

There are only momentary breathes to catch before another ache blooms into another mash of flesh and teeth. She is finding that she doesn’t have time to think about the intensity, not when everything is so blissed out or teetering on the edge of hips snapping against hips. And its only during the momentary breaths, when her chest slowly stops expanding and contracting so violently, when he falls on top of her and presses her against the cushions of the couch, or the tile of the floor, or the carpet, or whatever surface they have finished on top of that she gets a second to reflect on just what is happening.

A brief taste of clarity before being dragged back under.

_So this is what a heat and a rut are like._

She takes in a shuttering breath, hums contentedly as Ben shifts on top of her, nuzzling his face into her collarbone while he tries to bring his breathing back to normal while his hips slow from a punishing grind to a wavering hump. While she lets fingers drift lazily through is drenched locks. While he pulses inside and she gets another little spasm of his seed coating her insides and feels her fingers clench in his hair. Feels her toes curl and doesn’t know why, out of all of these years of tasting sex and having barely recognizable zings, that one shift of him inside her while he is knotted makes the softest orgasm squeak through her veins, almost like a sigh of joy. And though she was already a massive puddle of muscle and bone below him moments before, her limbs feel even more weighted and satiated while he slips his arms under her waist and pulls her even tighter against his chest. Pressing every inch of skin he can manage to hers.

Loves how she is dwarfed by his massive frame, how his shoulders cast shadows over her face, blocking out the light from the dim lamp behind him. 

“Fuck,” He hisses as his hips finally stall sometime in the minutes slipping past, “I just-”

And his muscles finally give, and then all of his weight is against her as his knot deflates. And now she can feel the drizzle of their mixed sex seeping between her folds and to the rug below. Smiles against his chest as he presses her down, legs parted and head against hers. Hands still tucked at the small of her back and holding her close. Even though the grip lessens in his aftermath. And she wraps around him, as much as she can manage. Legs locked around his back, face tucked against his chest. Arms folded over those massive shoulders. And its only like this, when they are both at the mercy of a comedown, all spent and the knot has fallen away and they have a second to just breath together that it feels the best. 

Orgasms are wonderful.

But this is a bliss that they can’t match.

“I can’t tell if I want this to end or continue for eternity,” He whispers against her neck and squeezes her tighter. And for a second his tension has wavered, and he had gone limp and satiated. But even as his breath is starting to slow, she can already feel the muscles of his back rippling under her fingertips. Suspects that if she let her hands drift down to his ass those muscles would already be coiling, preparing for another round of plundering her pussy. And she has no clue how neither of them has blacked out from the intensity and exertion that has sweat pouring from their pores and their skin glistening. 

And even as he curls around her, already rock hard against her hip, she can feel the way his legs and arms are shaking over her. How he is stuttering and how he is straining to keep from just collapsing. How his brow is knit in concentration as he tries to fight back the nature that is tugging at his hips and driving him into a flurry of gyrations. And she has her own exhaustion blurring her senses. A tiredness that is burrowed deep in her bones. But she hasn’t been holding her weight like him. While she has been meeting his thrusts, she hasn’t had to put as much energy into this.

She lets her hand push back some of his damp hair, feels her heart swell at the small smile he gives her when their eyes meet. Lets her fingers weave through his.

“How are you doing?” She whispers.

And his voice is thick and throaty, and tired. “I’m managing.” 

She snorts a bit at that, and a little quirk to the side of his mouth lets her know he is aware he is being called out on his shit.

But instead of giving him a hard time, feeling he’s had enough torture for the last day, she places a hand on his chest over his heart. Rubs gentle circles there in hopes of soothing him. Feels a little contented sigh pass his lips and some of the tension slips from his shoulders.

She glances up to meet his eyes again.

“Ben,” She says softly, “I know you are rutting, but do you think you could let me help you out?”

Feels his muscles go tight again, and his mouth becomes a thin line. His nose wrinkles in slight anger, and it's a deep voice that rumbles through his chest, “No.”

She has to take a deep breath, to steady herself for what she knows is going to be something of a battle. She thought the little book she read on about their sex habits had been exaggerating his need to touch her, hold her in place, to dominate her. And likewise, her need for him to do so. But now that they have been at this over twenty-four hours, and she has all the bruises to count and the number of pieces of furniture that have been maimed, she realized it really hadn’t been exaggerating. Ben has been exhaustive. The couple of times she took off for the bathroom took five minutes of placating him, and even then he stood by the door the entire time like some kind of guard. And when they did eat, the one thing he seemed able to at least pause for, he would hand feed her fruit and tip water into her mouth. 

And she loved every moment of it. How it made her feel taken care of. And every second their skin wasn’t in contact was torture.

But he was hers to take care of just as much as she was his. And if he didn’t take her up on this offer, she was sure he was going to collapse soon.

She needed to take some of the pressure off him. And the book had said it was possible for an omega to make an alpha give way when needed. To make them fall the heel when they were in danger or were becoming a danger. She just had to find a way to make him see that it was for his good and hers that she take this round under her control.

“Ben,” She whispers, running fingers along his chest. It makes him shiver. “Let me take care of you, please. Please alpha.” She adds the last part because she has learned well what that word does to him. How it makes his hips speed up or slow down as needed, how it makes him spiral into heated ruts. How he bends under that word just like she bends at omega.

His grip tightens on her, “No, Omega.” He hisses, deep and commanding. And for a second she goes to draw away, to fall back to the floor and let him grind back into her while he shakes and possibly collapses on top of her. Its what has happened everytime she has tried to broach the subject. And how he would then make her remember just who was supposed to be in charge, who was in control, who was the dominant one.

Only this time she doesn’t feel that necessary tug that makes her complaint. Instead of something else, a searing strength bubbles up. A light. Cold and calculating and blinding. Unwilling to bend this time, not when it feels the waver of his strength. Not when it feels his exhaustion. Not when it needs to nurture. And that desire, the need to heal and make him better, to ensure he is okay is overriding that other part of her that makes her bend to his whims.

Because he is hers to care for.

And this time she is stretching up and her hand on his chest his stretching. White-tipped and long, cool and hissing as it meets his heat. And there is some kind of strength in her veins that makes her press against his chest. And she feels the resistance, the coils of his muscles trying to press back against her. Feels him starting to lean, to rest his weight against her like he has done all the other times. To hold her to the floor until she goes supplicant.

But this time she doesn’t give. Her back doesn’t meet the floor, but instead, she holds him in place and leans forward until the tips of their noses are nearly touching.

“Yes, alpha.” She growls, and its a high pitched whisper that makes all the glass in the room start to quiver. And when he continues to push down on her, and her power starts to lick at her skin there is a resounding shatter as the room implodes and glass skitters across the room. But neither look away, even as books and cups and everything small starts to slowly lift into the air, hovering as shadows lick at the corners of the room. As their hair starts to lift from their sweat-drenched brows and skin starts to prickle in a new way. Like an electric current is flowing around them, and gravity is giving way. Bits and baubles hover just around them, and as they continue their little battle of wills so do the larger pieces. First, the coffee table and then the armchairs, the table by the window, the butcher block island, until even the couch is floating just a hands reach away. 

And when he makes his final push, and the coldness of her hand burns into his flesh and makes him pause, they too lift to the air just as she pushes back on him and all the energy he gave to resist flows out of him in one shattering breath. 

“Mine to take care of,” She growls as he leans back to the air and his arms come around her waist and pull her on top of him.

Settle her on his lap, just so he presses insistently against her ass. As she takes the moment to lean over, to hold his eyes. To run a hand over his brow to push back some of his hair. Bends down to press a kiss to his chest, which elicited a warning growl, before she bites down on the flesh around his ribs for telling her to get a move on. Because this is her little rodeo, and she well intends to just let him lie back and enjoy the ride. Even if he has to grit his teeth to keep from rolling them over and making things go the way he wants them.

And when his hands stop gripping her so hard, when he lets them fall, hanging in the air until he finally lets them drift behind his head and rests it on them, does she let her tongue lap at the little bites she has placed along his right rib, while she slides a little further down his lap so he presses against her wetness.

Grinds down a little to get her bud to send scrumptious little tingles throughout her lower body.

“Omega,” He growls out in warning, and she pauses then, meets his eyes, and watches his jaw clench. A satisfied little smile tugs at her lips. Grins even wider as he cants up toward her, insisting.

She lets her hand fall to his chest and traces the already healing burn mark of her hand that is glimmering on his chest.

“Alpha,” She counters and taps a finger against the burn in warning, acknowledging her ability to make him bend when needed. And he hisses out, but settles, glancing away for a second like a scolded dog.

And only then does she grip him and sink down.

She has to put her hands on his hips and half wrap her legs awkwardly around his thighs to give purchase. Without a floor or something underneath to allow her to push off, it takes her a second to find a way to use him, to push off his legs and use her own core to allow herself to finally glide upward along his shaft. But when she does, he gives a loud sigh of relief and his hands fall onto her hips and immediately pull her down hard.

She tries to slap his hands away, wants to give him this. But he ignores them, eyes pressed tightly shut as he tries to impale her. And finally, she gives up after the third time when it actually fucking hurts when he hits her cervix in a not so pleasant way. And she gives into him, lets her hips follow his hands that cling in desperation even as he tries to find traction in the air to grind up into her. Because even floating in mid-air with her ready to happily ride him to completion, his rut isn’t letting him still his hips for a second.

So she gets her own hold by pressing her palms flat against his abdomen and purchasing her legs on his thighs so she can pull up and fall down in the rhythm he sets with his hands. And finally, about the third time he is seated fully in her, does she start to get those zings again. And when he pulls her up and she flexes her hips to the point she is straining above him, tip nearly out, he brings her down hard. And this time when he hits her wall it brings stars to her eyes instead of the pain.

They continue the dance, hard and rapid as they meet flesh to flesh. And sweat drips down her chin and back. And the slickness between them makes it so easy for him to slide in her folds. To ripple through all the ridges of her insides and bottom out. For her ass to slap down on his balls so loud it echoes through the room. And her heart is catching and hammering as her skin heats at the build up. At the way she swears she is swelling even more, encircling him and clenching around his thick cock. Loves how their hips are flush together when he brings her down harshly and when he pulls her back up.

Starts to lean back as one of his hands moves from her hip to encase her breast and she rests her hand over his, encouraging him to knead it while they crest up and fall back down again and again.

For a second she lets her eyes drift open, catches the objects around the room pulsing up and down with their rhythm. Pauses for a second and watches as they do the same, ignoring his hiss and the way he harshly pulls her back down on himself. And all the objects follow like they are tethered to their movements. And then her eyes drift to his, which are clenched closed in a mix of pain and pleasure. And she feels a little spike of guilt for not letting him just rut into her. For torturing him like this.

And so she closes her eyes, grips his hand on her breast tighter, and makes to speed up.

Hears him gasp a bit at the increased speed, even though it makes her thighs scream and her muscles quake. Even though she is sure she will collapse if she continues so relentlessly. But it is enough to pull that pain from his brow, enough to simulate his rapid wildness that he finally relaxes a bit and the rut is slightly satiated as they grind into each other. Fast. Quick. Deep.

And she is bending back now, head thrown back as her eyes flutter shut and she lets the feel of him ripping through her push away all other thoughts.

Because if there is one thing about the heat and rut, its this overwhelming ability to let the rest of the world disappear.

Lets herself enjoy the battering of her hips against his. The zings that spiral outward to her fingers and toes. The coil that is threatening to snap apart and take her with it. Just one more. So close. Once more.

And then she feels that unique zing that makes her cunt clench like a vice as her folds run right over his swelling knot. The one that hits a spot she didn’t even know existed until he nestled his bulb against it and she feels all his pulsing as he shoots ribbons of cum deep into her abdomen. That zings wildly every time it moves and presses against her clenched walls.

That little spot that once it feels his knot, as she sinks onto and pulls off for just one last thrust, zings in excitement before he brings them both together and his knot snaps into place as she clamps down.

And it's not even stars this time. Its just shuttering muscles and an eek of a scream as her mouth falls open and wave after shuttering wave crashing down on her. As all that cold and heat mix that has scratched at her skin finally melts away and she settles onto his lap, legs limp and dangling on either side of him while he bends his back with a shuttering jerk as another spasm takes him. And she feels that twitch of him inside, tapping against sensitive walls as a hot pulse of wet slick spurts into her. She shudders at the feeling, the walls around his knot still tingling with the promise of another, softer cresting wave. Like they always do when he knots. And sure enough, right after she falls forward onto his chest, breathing heavily, another soft little shutter wracks her body. A warm lick that finally lets her sigh in relief.

And with the sigh goes all her protests. Even as his arms wrap possessively around her. 

And so does the spell that levitated them.

They go crashing to the ground, a loud grunt from Ben as his back smacks against the floor and Rey lands on top of him. And a rain of all the other bits and baubles comes down around them. The couch hitting so hard it makes the floor shake. And Ben curls around her, protecting her head from an debris. Though everything seems to just magically fall back to its original place, though a little hap-hazardously.

And only when he thinks it has settled does he fall back to the ground and look up at her through dark locks.

“That's a new one. I haven’t had someone ride me in mid-air, before.” He smiles lazily, one hand drawing circles along her back. And she notices he isn’t pulling her too close. That he isn’t being quite as clingy as before. 

She laughs, “New one for me, too.”

And with a sleepy yawn he does a mock thrust of his hips, “Definitely have to try that one again.”

She smiles, leaning to rest against him and feels his breath start to slow. Hears him take another yawn, and then he is out. The arm around her waist lazy and relaxed.

_So it had worked._ Finally, they could both get some much-needed rest.

—

Their rest lasts all of a couple of hours. And it's not Ben that wakes insistent, though he is more than happy to oblige when the cold in her becomes too much. And she is curled up in his arms, thrusting her hips back like some deranged in heat cat, whimpering and mewling. Trying not to wake him, even as she can’t help but press her ass and her folds against him. As if that would give some semblance of relief.

But he wakes, nostrils flaring and his hands slithering around her possessively. And she feels a little of the tension leave her at the connection. At the alpha part of him kicking back in. Because it has been hours, and his cum is all dribbled out of her and everything is so much colder. Even the wool blankets she has nestled around her are doing nothing to stop her teeth from chattering away.

“It's okay, little omega.” He whispers against her hair, a hand sliding along her shoulder until it meets her gland, “I’ll take good care of you.”

And she purrs as he pushes back some of her hair and nuzzles his nose against that gland on the back of her neck. Feels her muscles weaken as his lips graze the spot. As the zings travel swiftly down her back and then to her lower abdomen. Make her cant against him.

And when his tongue slithers out to lathe at it, swirling and coating it in his scent she feels the slick seep between her thighs.

_Oh._

She whimpers, which makes him groan as he shifts his hips and presses more insistently against her ass.

And he flattens his tongue then and gives one long, luxurious lick that has her mewling.

“Please, I need - ”

And his hand drifts under the covers, to her hip and then over her waist to dip between her thighs.

“Tell me what you need,” He whispers against her skin as his finger finds her clit and gives it a gentle roll while his tongue glides along the edges of her gland.

_Oh, fuck._ She thinks as her entire body shivers. 

“I your cum inside me. It cold.”

Hears him growl against her neck and shutter against her. And he gives a quick flick of his finger over her bud just as he lets the edge of his canine tooth skirt over the skin of her gland.

As her mouth falls open and the apex of her thighs clench. Its like electricity skirting through her veins. Like drowning and then coming up for water only to be pulled back down again. Cresting on promise and reprieve.

_If he did that while he was inside?_

And just the thought of it makes her shutter and a little wink of an orgasm has her gasping for breath before she registers his chuckle.

“Thought that might help.”

Then he is turning her so she faces him, lazy smile still laced with sleep tugging at his face. But his eyes are bright and wide. And though he yawns, when his eyes fall to her revealed breasts she knows they won’t be going back to sleep anytime soon.

Not that she would let him.

And because that little wisp of an orgasm is not what she needs she tucks in closer to him. Wraps around him. 

And her little fingers slip up his back, pausing at the base of his neck at that little spot that matches hers. The one she had been told for years served no purpose but as a genetic glimpse of the past. A vestigial organ. And feels a little bubble of a laugh well in her chest. Oh, if that doctor that told her that load of shit really knew what it was for. And lets the pad of her thumb run right along it and both feels and hears Ben curse.

“Omega,” He says with a warning, but it's not the command that occasionally leaks out during their sex. And makes her pussy quiver. Its regular Ben, with a chiding deep voice that is both amused and spent, “Will you let me catch my breath?”

Though he groans as his hips automatically slam into hers.

“You won’t let me most of the time. Why should I?” Rey snarks back, and for her sass gets a little pinch to her ass that makes her laugh.

She feels his grip tighten, and knows that she is pushing him a little. That her words are already starting to hollow him out and pull at those strings that make his hips jerk wildly into her, and bring her careening over climaxing cliffs. And give her these satisfying reprieves that paradoxically only make her want to bring those hips snapping back into hers as swiftly as possible. Half of her wanting to stay buried under him, half of her wanting him buried in her. A nice little tug of war that makes her insides tingle and melt.

But that ache is starting to inch its way back up her back, unspooling and making her shiver. And even the heat radiating off his chest and his skin is doing nothing to satiate it. Even the press of all his inches against her just makes it spike, and she swears her lips will be blue soon if something isn’t done about it.

Enjoys his shuttering sigh as he slips one arm out from under her and lets it run right along her side and up, up, skimming the edge of her breast, before pausing at her neck. Slipping behind it, and tugging her roughly forward so that his mouth is right against her collarbone and she is stuck in an awkward pose that makes her suddenly feel vulnerable. His fingers are long, taloned like they are when they slip into her mind, through brain matter, and make her world shatter. But this time they are nowhere near the base of her brain stem, or at her temple. 

No, they are hovering just over her gland again. And though its just fingertips that slip into the skin and draw just the slightest blood, she feels her skin ache and her body bend nearly in half, into him, eyes rolling back in her head as a little ‘ooh’ slips past her lips. 

“If I could have my way, I never would.” His words are said in that deep commanding voice that pulls from the earth itself, that makes her seep wet to the floor below, that makes her breath still. It rattles around inside her brain and makes her moan out.

“I would be okay with that,” She whispers back, and its that voice again. The high pitched one that is like an exact opposite of his commanding voice. Perfectly matched on the other end of the spectrum, and she feels him go still at them. Feels his skin heat under her fingertips, even as hers slide over his gland and she barely registers them sinking into the skin of his gland, mirroring his action from seconds before. And this time he arches, back snapping and she briefly catches the red of his eyes as they roll back and a loud growl permeates the air. 

Bent together, spreading out like a blossoming flower with their heads thrown back, blood dripping down and over needled fingers. Time feels like it stops, paused as their muscles waver and their legs start to shake. Until their skins are burning and freezing and finally his eyes roll back to place and meet hers, a deep red of flicking flames and demonic power. The eyes of the creature that is the other half of Ben, his true form and the one that hovered over her all those days ago. The one she dreamed of and came so close to release.

And she doesn’t know why or how she does it, but her fingers slip from his gland and up to his brain stem. Slip in, pressing through layers and she can feel him give under her, lean into her hand like a puppy against an ear rub. Hear his purr as her needle tips sink in and she pushes that image of them together, the time she laid in the bottom of the shower. Of him hovering above her, hand across her waist and his fingers deep inside. His long fingers, and at some point replaced by his member. All that swirling blackness slipping into her. Pushes her emotions that flickered during that time, the desperation, the heat that he made pool and coil inside her even as a phantom. Makes him feel all the times she nearly tipped over the edge but couldn’t quite make it there. 

Feels her heart hammering in her chest in anticipation of her next words as her little needles slip from his mind and her hands come to cup his face which is staring down at her with wide, red eyes. 

“I want you to finish what you started.”

_My alpha, I want to know you._ Her mind thinks as she lets her legs and arms fall away, sinks to the floor and goes compliant for him. Stares up at him through heavy eyes and watches as his red ones drift over her body while he pulls off her hesitantly. Lets a hand fall to her stomach and gently caress upward, as he tilts his head. As he studies her with those haunting red orbs.

As he lets his hand fully shift and watches her eyes for a sign of fear. But she feels the little skip of her heart, the pounding of her blood in her veins, inhales sharply as one of those fingers just barely skims the edge of her breast and then comes up to her nipple. As he gains some confidence when his hand encloses her breast and stretches all the way up to her neck even as he presses his palm against her. So much bigger like this. So much more to dwarf her and tower over her and hold her down. So much more to fill her.

Shifts her hips a little, hissing that she can’t rub her thighs together to satiate some of that need. Feels her sex weep at the prospect, begging for more than what he has given before now. 

What does it say about her that she wants him dark and inky, tall and strong and dripping horror onto her skin while he fills her? Only knows that she has been wanting this for a very long time. Even though she didn’t know it.

Can see the change in his demeanor when he realizes this is okay. That she wants this. That it turns her on. And she watches with wide eyes as he leans forward, black locks falling into his eyes and red pools staring out. Sucking in her scent as he presses their foreheads together and makes their breaths mingle. As his hand shimmies up and traces her cheekbone and he shifts so that his arousal is pressed against her slick.

“As my good little omega wishes,” He growls out, deep and throaty. And rolls his hips against hers while he holds her eyes, and she watches as the darkness bends around him, as the light draws away, and like all the times before he brings into himself the darkness until it coats his skin and drips from his hair. Steaming away from her face and skin where it meets. Until he is stretched, in his completeness, like a cat bent over her so their foreheads are still pressed and their sexes meet. But he has all the length of his true form. All the broadness that makes her legs part further, all the wideness of shoulders that she can barely get her arms around. All of his heat searing against her skin.

And this, finally, this, chases away the cold. Feels it submit under his heat and melt away turning to water until it starts to boil. Until she finally feels warmth in her cheeks and heat in her thighs. 

And hell, they haven’t even moved and she swears she could just cum like this. Him towering over her, presence filling every crack of the room with little shadows. Chasing away the light until she is the only thing not completely bathed in the dark. 

But oh, she wants to be.

Then, and only then, when she finally lets out her breath and shudders, fingers curling into the thick viscous liquid of his skin and meeting some searing form of flesh beneath, does he tilt his head and thrust his tongue into her mouth.

And he so much warmer like this, tongue darting and dipping in to caress her. Hands pulling her closer, and tilting her hips so he slips right along her folds. And for a second she nearly chokes on his tongue, on the feel of what is pressed against her. Because the length of his torso and the diameter of his thighs are not the only things that elongated in his transformation. But she only lets it last for a second, before forcing down the lump that builds in her throat and letting herself get carried away in the little prodding of the tip of his tongue. The way it flashes across her sensitive lower lip. And relishes the feel of his shadows licking at her skin.

One of his hands slips between them, and two long fingers pinch and tug at her nipple, harsh and fast. But it brings out a gasp and makes her thighs quake as he slips himself over her clit, over the wetness of her folds. And her hips follow each tug and rough pinch until they are both gasping heavily. Until he flattens his hot palm against her chest and pushes down, forcing her to the floor. And then he is curling back, long arms tracing down her stomach until they rest on her upper thighs, and then slip to rest behind her knees. And he pinches just behind them, making her hiss and delicious little zings flicker to her cunt. 

Before he slings them over his massive shoulders.

And then he is slinking back over her, sliding up between her legs to tower over her again, sex pressed just against her entrance. And she isn’t sure if its the liquid of his shadows that simmer against her skin or if he is leaking precum, but she would suspect it might be both. But for the first time since this all started, he seems to have more control, hips stilled against her as his hands slide up her sides and then to her arms until he stops at her wrists and pins them just above her head. Leaves a trail of heat in his wake. And then he bends down, head against her ear as he gives a little thrust against her outer folds that she tries desperately to meet.

“Stay just like this, little omega.”

She feels the dip in the air, the way everything around her starts to vibrate. The way her body feels suddenly taut and pulled as if there were truly restraints pulled from the air itself. Tries to move an arm and finds her muscles are no longer hers to command, but frozen in place. And there have been only a handful of times she recalls this happening, and both had been when he was in this form and used that voice.

And she had been unable to resist even as her heart screamed out to be free.

But this time is different. She isn’t fighting him or confused. Now that she is finally warm, finally where she should be it doesn’t feel like restraints. It feels right. Especially when his fingertips, slip along the softness of her flesh under her arms and over her collarbone. Over her cheeks and to her mouth. One finger resting on her lips before pressing against them. Before he leans down, pressing his tip right against her entrance and just barely sinking in, curving his massive hips into hers just as he bites down and tugs on her lower lip.

She wants to cant her hips up into his, to sheath him inside. But her body isn’t listening to any of her instructions. And it's not following in intuition. 

It stays exactly where he told it to.

Fucking asshole just magic commanded her still.

And her eyes must be the only thing allowed to do as they wish because she shoots him a glower just as he sinks in a little further. And those red eyes meet hers. And she sees that quirk to his lips, the self-satisfied smirk that has her blood boiling in rage and desire. And that look must be one hell of a turn on because next thing she knows he is snapping into her hard and sinking in until their flesh meets and there is that odd pressure of him against her walls and stretching. And she doesn’t even have a second to think about how the hell it didn’t take them at least a few shifts to get him nestled inside before he is leaning over her while he gives shallow little flicks to his hips that just barely skim along her insides.

Nothing like it had been the last few times when he pushed into her so hard and fast, rutting into her until wood snapped and springs creaked. And her body bruised and screamed for more. Faster. Stronger. Harder. Swifter.

There is a control here he did not have before.

As he slinks over her and rests his lips against the shell of her ear, warm wet lips pressing just to her skin there. As a tongue licks right along the shell.

“My beautiful little omega, how does it feel to be at my mercy?” It's that deep voice, the one that commands her. And it thrums through her, deep and thick. “Answer me, little one.”

And her breath comes rushing back, just in time for a little whimper to slip past as he thrusts a little harder.

“I want to move,” She hisses into the air, groans as one of his hands cups her breast.

“Do you now? Don’t like that I can take what I want?” And to punctuate this, his hips snap back and forward, hard, making her nerves sing. And she is gasping, the inability to move, the stretch of her breasts with her arms above her head, with her legs tossed over his cascading shoulders. His mouth just against the shell of her ear where he dips in that tongue.

Where his hand slips down to the apex of her thighs and rubs just along her clit and makes his next hit hit her just right. 

“Because its sounding like you really like this.”

And hell, she really is. Stuck between this need to meet him, to dance with him and this delicious feeling of being unable. Being pinned down. At his mercy, bared and unable to do as she wants.

It is a delicious torture.

He rocks against her, his pace slowly starting to pick up like a building wave, and it got everything inside her tingling. Itching at the build between her thighs, at the ache of her arms and legs. There is that coil inside winding tighter and tighter with each thrust, and the wetness that is seeping between them as he grounds down into her like before, hips rutting into her compliant body while she cries out and he slips his tongue around her ear in time with his thrusts.

“I like you right where I have you,” He grunts, snaps hips against hers. “I want you to stay right here. Under me. Where you should be.”

And she groans as she gets a flash of light behind her eyes.

“Do you like it, when I make you stay in place?”

And she expects to hear herself deny it. Because she has never really been one for submitting to another. Not on such a level. But the way he is cresting into her, the way he is panting, and the way her skin is zinging, she can’t find a reason to deny it. She’s loving it. Thrilled at the weight of him, the slickness of his dark skin. Especially thrilled by those long, black hands that span her body and tweak her nipples. At the way, she feels she is stretched so full, fuller than when he was knotting her as he goes in deep and hard and presses lips to her ear. And whispers and grunts into her. Because there is something delightful about being held down by him. Commanded by him. And it makes her insides clench and dance around his member.

“Do you want to move, Rey?”

And his words are coming out gasped and throaty. Ragged as he plows forward, fingers digging into her flesh as he becomes a little more erratic.

“Yes, please, alpha.” She grounds out, voice high and shrill as another zing sings through.

“Then make a deal with me, little omega.” He grunts it out, and there is a rapid, wild set of thrusts that are not in time with what came before. Wild and unbridled. As if the very thought of striking some deal with her set him off.

Will get him off.

And the part inside her that is starting to bloom, well it can’t deny him that. Not as he pauses for a second, one in which he bites down on her shoulder and growls out as he forcibly stops his hips so he can get them back into a tune they are both familiar with.

“What do you want, alpha?” She groans back, wishing desperately to move her hands and grasp his shoulders. To meet his thrusts.

“I want,” and he gasps, a little premature shudder running through him and he doesn’t manage to make it out before his hand is around her throat and gripping. And there is this pause like the atmosphere is dipping as his fingers glide along the flesh there. And she feels herself flutter around him at the thought, at the insinuation of what he wants to do. What it might feel like. A little flirt with danger. How much she loves that. Because there is the Ben that has been with her through all of this trying to hold this part of himself back. The one that he is afraid of. 

The dark side of him she has been pulling him back from these last couple of days. The one that makes bad choices and rips and rends things. The one that got lost in the consumption of souls. The one Ben has been trying to bury for the past six months.

The side of him that is rutting into her now. The side she is quickly learning she really wants to come out and play.

He gasps out his bargain, low and throaty. And desperate as his hips drive into hers.

“Let me finish with my hand around your neck. And I will set you free.”

She can’t stop the little yes that slips past her lips. Sigh at the resolve that settles in her heart. At the trust that wraps around her as his fingers come just around her delicate neck, as he nips at the outer shell of her ear, as he careens into her.

As he slowly tightens his grip and wrenches another gasp from her as he hits that spot for the final time that has the coil inside her rip her apart and he smashes relentlessly into her while she gasps.

While all the shadows in the room start to close in on her vision, and the zips and stars of her orgasm rain down on her.

And when her breath catches -

She finds she is no longer in the cabin.

Its that misty field of flickering orbs that sound like children. The light inside herself, she recalls.

But this time the fog is not as heavy, and where she thought it was an infinity of mist she now sees an endless stretch of field. Tall grasses and lolling hills with little wildflowers popping up with happy blooms that wave in the gentle breeze.

And far off, in the distance, the horizon meets a large black hole. Void.

It is only when she pulls her eyes away from the void, much bigger than it had been the last time she visited, does she realize she is not alone. 

On a hill not too far away, staring off into the distance is a tiny little woman around which all the orbs have gathered. And they float around her like orbiting moons, occasionally dipping in and out of her flowing hair. Long locks of a rich chocolate caught in the breeze and dappled with interwoven flowers and ribbons. A woman, that when she turns to look over her shoulder at Rey, has a kind beautiful face. Rey feels a little tug of recognition, though she can’t place who she is or why she should know this woman’s face.

“I see my grandson has taken after his grandfather in more ways than just personality.”

And there is a knowing suggestiveness to her words, like she knows just what Rey was up to. What Ben was doing the precise moment she appeared in this little place.

And the word grandson makes that little thread of recognition snap into place.

“His grandmother?”

And the woman smiles warmly at Rey and pats the ground beside her.

“Call me Padme.”

So Rey clambers up the hill, settling onto the grass beside Padme. Is surprised to see there is a blanket and a little picnic basket spread out at their feet.

“I have been waiting a very long time for you to show up.”

Rey’s voice comes out low and throaty, coated in surprise.

“You have?”

And Padme nods, “Ever since your grandmother brought you to my husband. And I knew then the cosmos granted my wish.”

Rey’s brow knits in confusion.

“Your wish?” She asks, and goes rigid when Padme grabs her hands and pulls them into her lap. As the older angel meets her gaze and for one blinding moment, Rey wants to look away from the brightness of Padme’s eyes.

“Yes, Rey. You are the cosmos’ only hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Sooo...did this go as you thought? Wacky magic levitation sex? Inky demon Ben making an appearance (ooohh...someone guessed that one). Omega commanding an alpha (is that even allowed? I think I might have broken some unspoken a/b/o law)? And then magical cosmic teleportation through asphyxiation climax? Things got weird...and I hope you loved it. ;)


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